


Road to Freedom

by Andauril



Category: Thief (Video Game 2014), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Recovery, Thief (2014), because this is Thief what did you expect?, larceny and burglary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5945539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/Andauril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The City has returned to normal, but while most rejoice from recovery from the Gloom, two troubled souls still try to regain balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for any awkward spelling or grammar mistakes and the like - English is not my native language. If you find any mistakes, don't hesitate to point them out to me.

 

Nothing was the same. Nothing had changed.

The sun rose behind the cold stone walls of the City as it always had done, countless days before. The wind carried the same stench of fish and water from the river with it. The sounds of the awakening town were just as she remembered them – the cries of merchant’s who opened their stalls for the day, the cracking of doors opened to let in new costumers, the steps of the first flock of busy people heading to another day of tiresome work.

Nothing had changed.

Why did it feel like nothing was the same?

Erin felt exposed. The wind had a chilling sting to it that bit her to the bone, and the shredded white dress did nothing to drive it off. It hung limply from her body, like cobwebs that didn’t want to let her go. She felt like the entire city was staring at her - not just the people, but the walls and the cold cobblestone underneath her bare feet and the cloudy early morning sky and the streetlights and the air she was breathing.

Staring, scrutinizing … judging.

Before she knew what she was doing, she fell into a run.

It was too open, there were too many people, too much light. It made her heart pace in a wild drum, and her breath fleeing. Her steps were too loud, they seemed to echo from the facades of the houses around. If a guard had crossed the corner at this moment, he’d spotted her.

Erin didn’t care.

Her mind was in a blur. She needed to breathe, but her chest was contracting and she was fleeing.

The air of _different_ followed her, clang to her like her cobweb like dress, like claws grasping for her hair from the dark, like the heavy mist of opium that dulled her mind and senses …

Something took hold of her. A grip around her wrist, like a shackle. It stopped her in her track.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Are you alright, lass?”

Not a guard. Not Northcrest. Not the punter.

Just a woman. Middle-aged, with deep-set eyes and wearing grey clothes and a basked underneath her left arm. With her right hand she’d grabbed her, held her, tight.

Erin didn’t answer.

“You look like Red Jenny’s after you.”

“I’m okay.”

“Alright, and I’m Lady Northcrest.” Despite her words, there was _something_ in the woman’s face. Sympathy? Pity?

“I’m okay.” Erin jerked and broke her wrist free of the woman’s grasp. She didn’t need pity. She didn’t need the concern etched into her face.

The woman sighed, her gaze scrutinizing Erin over and over, top to bottom, took in every inch of her ragged white dress. She didn’t look the least bit convinced.

“Well … if you think. There’s a bakery down the street, gal. At least look that you get something to eat.”

The woman adjusted the basket and pushed a greasy strand of greying hair from her brow. A short nod was all she gave Erin for goodbye before she headed her way. She didn’t look behind, or she’d noticed the quick grab for her pouch and its sudden absence.

Erin weighed the purse in her hand. It was something, she guessed. A tidbit of reassurance that there was still something left within the hollow of her, that something else clung to her than the memories of claws and despair and madness.

The bakery wasn’t hard to find. The smell of fresh bread led her – all she had to do was follow her nose and the growing violent rumble of her stomach. The scent alone made her mouth water.

She hadn’t been aware she was so hungry.

She ignored the suspicious glance of the baker when he handed her over a chunk of fresh bread for exchange of the stolen coin. Or his incredulous glare when she dug her teeth into the baked dough and began to rip whole pieces from it. A little part of her told her that she must look like a starved animal but it didn’t matter.

She was so hungry.

It felt like she hadn’t eaten in years.

Perhaps she hadn’t.

But even the fresh warm bread wasn’t enough to fill the gaping hollow.

By the time she reached the old mill, she felt cold. Numb.

The white, ragged dress hang from her body like cobwebs from bones, and she felt like little more than a corpse. Like little more than the freaks she’d left behind, howling and clawing in the darkness and little more than savage beasts, shells of something that once had been humans.

She pressed her palm against the hidden button and slipped through the small opening. It was dark inside, and it smelled of dust and abandonment. It looked almost like she had left it behind … almost. When she turned to turn off the traps, she found them already disabled.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Of course. He’d been here, hadn’t he? There was a vague memory, like an echo of an echo, but she couldn’t quite grasp it – it was all in a haze.

The crates and the barrels and the old staircase all felt _strange._ Like a part ripped out and put back that didn’t quite fit anymore. Erin tried to push it aside. It would vanish once she’d made it to her old room. It would vanish when she woke up.

It had to.

It just had.

She was just tired. Exhausted. It was nothing. She was okay.

She was okay.

The first thing she noticed was that the drawings were gone. It was for the better, she told herself. The last thing she wanted was for Garrett’s eyes to stare at her from every corner of the room. It made her shiver. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know why it made her stomach coil and churn to think about looking him into the eye again, even if it just was a drawing.

She just lacked sleep. She was okay.

She was alive, and free, and there was no one to use her anymore. She was where she should be. Home.

But the white dress clang to her figure like a wisp of a nightmare, like a thousand needles shoved into her flesh to drive her into darkness again. Poppies on silver trays, and poppies where she ended at. White like the poppy mist.

She needed to get rid of it. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t free. The thing was like shackles holding her down, and she could not breathe. There was just a strangled scream fleeing from her lips and hands ripping and ripping and ripping until she stood bare and the white dress lay in rags to her feet.

It was just a dress.

And she still felt cold.

The walls seemed to stare at her, accusing her, and she closed her eyes and dropped onto the bed. Maybe they would stop staring if she didn’t look. Maybe the old children’s trick would work today?

But evening came, and she drifted in and out of sleep, only to dream of white walls and poppies and screams in her head, so many screams, and she still felt cold.

She was cold, and she was alone, and nothing had changed. Nothing was the same.

 


	2. Chapter 1

Garrett kept his head low as he passed by the Watch Office’s window. He could hear muffled voices from the inside and steps moving past just behind the walls. It seemed that, after being overthrown by the Graven, the Watch eventually was about to recover.

He dropped from the balcony onto the sill and down into the side alley. A quick glance about his shoulder revealed that the single Watchman who had resumed patrol around the plaza was out of sight.

The backyard of the Crippled Burrick was almost empty – the only person was a drunk too busy with vomiting at his boots to notice anything around him. Garrett grimaced. Outcomes such as this were exactly the reason why he kept his distance to liquor. The buzz was never worth its consequences.

He kneeled down in front on of the basement windows and peered through. The cellar looked empty. Garrett couldn’t make out a single sign of Basso’s presence, not even a noise. Just a faint screeching sound broke through the silence in his fence’s office, but he couldn’t make out its source.

_I hope you didn’t get imprisonment again, Basso. It’s getting old._

Garrett glanced about his shoulder, making sure the drunk was still busy with puking his guts out, before he slid through the window and dropped onto the basement floor.

Basso really wasn’t here. His entire basement office was empty, even the corner in which he slept. The covers had half dropped to the floor and the pillow was deeply dented. The candle on Basso’s desk was still burning – he couldn’t have been away for too long.

Just as he outstretched his hand to look through the various letters laying cluttered all about the desk, the screeching noise sounded again. Turning his head, Garrett’s gaze fell upon a bird cage set down next to the desk. A pair of black eyes stared back to him, and the little bird ruffled its weathers while a second, louder screech escapes from its beak.

Well, that settled _that_ question.

He reached for the letters a second time, slowly and careful not to make any sudden movements, but the bird screeched again. Even louder than before. It even started jumping up and down on its perch and batted its wings.

Garrett sighed and retreated from the desk. Looking through Basso’s correspondence wasn’t worth alarming the entire clientele of the Crippled Burrick. He would just need to wait for Basso to show up.

If he hadn’t been imprisoned again.

It was then that he heard steps coming down the stairs to the basement, and the turning of a key inside the lock of the cellar door.

Garrett leant back against the desk and waited for the door to open and Basso to enter.

Basso stopped mid-track and stared, eyes wide and startled for a moment. “Shit, Garrett. You can’t work the frigging door for once?”

Garrett didn’t answer, and from the look of it, Basso didn’t expect him to. He rounded the desk and almost immediately was greeted by loud screeching. Basso opened the hatch and with another happy screech, the little bird hopped onto his arm.

“Guess you met Raymond already?” Basso fished a piece of dried meet from his coat and shoved it into the birds open beak, silencing him.

“We had a meeting. You’re sure you raised a raven, not a watchdog?”

Basso laughed. “He gets a bit noisy, does he?” He raised a finger to pet the raven, but Raymond jumped out of reach, flapping his wings violently and screeching. “Stupid bird. Can’t made up your mind, can’t you? At least with Jenivere you knew she was about to eat your fingers … Ah, well. What’re here for, Garrett?”

Garrett kept his eyes on the bird. “Got anything for me?”

“Here for a job, then?” Basso shuffled around his desk, flipping through letters and letters until he finally picked some and handed them over. Raymond on his shoulders jumped up and down, opening his beak for yet another screech that was swiftly silenced with another piece of dried meat. “There. Some of these might interest you. The rest’s just easy pick-ups.”

“These are too.” Out of the three letters Basso had given him, only one seemed interesting enough. Steal a – seemingly rather important – letter from a house in Stonemarket. The residents were apparently rich enough to afford house guards, although the letter didn’t name an exact number. Normally it wouldn’t have been enough to pique his interest, but something about this commission made him curious.

“That one.” He discarded the other two letters and pocketed the third one.

“I’ll find someone else for these two, then …” Basso tried to scratch his new pet again, but the raven just erupted into angry screeching and jumped off his shoulder and onto the desk.

The silence between them felt heavy, as if filled with unspoken questions. Basso sorted through his letters, shushing at Raymond who seemed to have made himself comfortable amidst all the documents. His business was a façade.

Garrett turned around and headed for the window. Letters were perhaps the most sensitive of all stolen goods – they could easily get discarded; burned, shredded, soaked until they were illegible, especially in the case of important correspondence. People usually tried to keep their secrets hidden, and written down they were open to everyone with the ability to read. He better finished this job fast.

He had almost made it to the window, already reached for the sill when he turned around one last time.

“You’ve seen Erin?”

Since he’d passed out after he had freed her from the Primal, he hadn’t so much as seen a glimpse of her. If not for the wet footprints he’d discovered upon waking, and the claw, he would’ve thought the fall had killed her.

But it brought him little comfort. For all he knew, she could be dead by now – of starvation, or the blades of guards. She’d left without any weapon. Even Erin wasn’t resilient enough to defend herself bare-handed and exhausted …

Basso looked up from his faked business. “Found her then? Where?”

“Orion had her. He was trying to use her to cure the Gloom.”

“Shit. Should’ve known the guy sounded too good to be true.”

For a moment, Garrett almost wanted to tell it all. His confrontation with Orion on the Dawn’s Light, and how it had taken its drastic turn. Orion’s death, Erin’s rampage, how her anger and disappointment had turned the crew into monsters, how she’d tried to kill him as well … It would be a relief to have it all off his chest, but he couldn’t. This was something between Erin and him. He wouldn’t bother his fence with it.

Garrett turned to the window again. If Basso hadn’t seen Erin, it was time for him to leave and get the job done. He could head to the mill after he was finished, look for her …

_But perhaps I shouldn’t. Last time she wasn’t exactly happy to see me._

“I’ll let you know when I see her”, he heard Basso say as he grabbed for the sill.

Garrett paused for a moment. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Raymond making a mess out of Basso’s desk – if that even was possible – and his fence’ curious, but also slightly concerned face.

“See you, Basso.”

“You’re welcome.”

Garrett didn’t give an answer. He wasn’t up to talking about anything what had happened just a few nights before, and staying meant risking having to answer more questions whom he wasn’t ready to give an answer for.

He slid through the small window and out into the courtyard.

The drunk had stopped poking his guts out and was now leaning with his brow pressed against the wall. An angry woman had joined him, loudly lamenting about how the alcohol would kill him one day.

Garrett ignored them both.

He stepped closer to one of the torches and pulled out the letter. The house in question shouldn’t be too hard to find. Stonecutter’s Court, not far from the jeweler. If he was quick enough, he might actually get the chance to head to the old mill before the night was over.

But at first, he needed to stop by the clock tower. While he hadn’t headed out unprepared to meet with Basso, some extra preparations certainly wouldn’t hurt.

 

Garrett kneeled atop one of the wooden sills, several feet above the street and peered down into a dark back alley. The only light came from a torch some steps down at the wall. The street alley below was deserted, save for a beggar who slept curled together between two barrels.

Whoever lived in this house didn’t seem to bother guarding their back entrance. Several minutes had passed and no one had even done as much as sticking their nose through the backdoor.

After a last glance over to the sleeping beggar, Garrett crept towards the edge and dropped down into the alley. His feet barely made any sound as they meet the ground, but still his gaze darted over to the figure between the barrels. The man hadn’t moved, and if not for the breaths lifting and lowering his chest, Garrett would have believed him dead.

Careful not to wake the beggar, he treaded over to the backdoor and crouched down. With an eye pressed to the keyhole, he could see that the corridor behind was almost dark, safe for a candle burning on a commode some steps down the hallway, next to another closed door. The corridor looked just as empty as the alleyway.

His lock picks slid into his hands and found their way inside the look. A simple three pin lock. He was almost disappointed. Someone who was careless enough to leave their backdoor unguarded should at least invest the money in a better lock. As it was, it was almost an invitation.

After one last look through the keyhole, he pushed the handle and slid through the gap, closing the door behind him.

There was one other door that he hadn’t noticed before leading away from the hallway, to his left. Peering through the keyhole revealed a storage room, just as empty as the hallway, and shrouded in shadows that obscured the racks. It didn’t seem very remarkable, but he opened the door regardless.

Underneath the ceiling, well above his head, was a hatch, marking the position of a venting shaft. He doubted he could reach high enough to open it, and the shelves looked too fragile to carry his weight, but the venting shaft could still become useful if he needed a way out.

He shut the door behind him and headed over to the next. The candle and its light was an unwelcome presence by his side – they left him far too exposed and visible, should someone decide to open the door. Garrett peaked through the keyhole, ready to dart out of the way and back into the shadows.

There were a number of pans and pots lined along the wall to his right, simple counters and a cold and dark stove at the far end of the room. A single figure sat on a chair near the door on the other side, with his head dropped to the chest. Garrett caught a glance at a sheathed blade at the figures side.

Careful, then. It looked like the guard was sleeping, but he couldn’t trust in luck alone. Any sound could startle the man awake.

Slowly, Garrett pushed the handle, inching the door open just wide enough for his frame to slide through. With an eye pinned on the dozing guard, and ready to dart at any moment should he wake up, he closed the door behind him.

The guard on his chair hadn’t moved.

Garrett crept forwards, side-eying the sleeping man with every step. He had almost reached the door when the guard moved, shifting on his chair.

Garrett stilled momentarily. If the guard woke up, he would be in plain sight, even in the dark kitchen. He was far too close for the shadows to give him cover. Looking around, he sought for any place to hide …

He darted for the shadows behind one of the counters when the guard started talking.

“ … don’t go don’t … need that …” The words were slurred, nothing more than a mumble. The guard’s head now rested on his shoulders, one arm hanging at his side like a dead weight. Still asleep, and talking in his dreams.

Garrett relaxed a little and inched towards the door. After a glance through the keyhole he worked the handle and slid into another, longer hallway, lit by electric lights and leading towards the stairs. There was precious little cover, and no shadows to speak off.

Garrett didn’t waste time. If someone decided to come down the stairs at this moment, he’d be in plain sight. He’d rather avoid that. If he got seen or even caught at such a simple job, he’d never live down on it. Least of all to himself.

There were only two other doors on the other side of the hallway. Garrett snuck towards the one closer to what looked like the front entrance. The room behind was empty, but lit by an open fireplace that send dancing shadows across the walls and would leave him only marginally less exposed if someone decided to enter than the hallway.

Still, he needed to start searching for that letter and he doubted the hallway was the right place to look for it. The living room was a little more promising.

He opened the door and slipped through the small gap, silently closing the door as soon as he had entered. Looking around, his gaze fell upon a gilded picture frame on the coffee table. Well, if he was already here, he could just as well use the chance to fill his pockets with more than just the letter he’d come here for. It wasn’t a very remarkable piece, but still would fetch a good price.

A lot more remarkable than the picture frame was the door left from the one he’d come through. Pocketing a silver candlestick from the drawer, he crept towards the door and peeked through the keyhole. Behind lay another empty room – he could see a small bedframe underneath a window and a cabinet at the far end of the chamber. A guest room, he presumed. The bed looked like it hadn’t been used in a while, and testing the door handle he discovered the room locked.

_Not expecting guests, it seems. That only means you’re not expecting me to enter either._

The lock was quickly opened, and Garrett slipped inside. He doubted he would find the letter here, but maybe the guest room harbored other opportunities. Loot worth taking, or an alternative root up to the second floor …

The cabinet was disappointingly empty, but the hatch directly above it in the wall looked promising. And, unlike the one in the storage room, perfectly within reach.

_You should really place your furniture elsewhere. If you make it so easy I have to take the invitation._

He grabbed for the edge of the cabinet and pulled himself up. Perching on top, he pulled out his wrench and began to unscrew the plate, sliding inside the venting shaft.

Garrett found himself on his knees, the tightness of the shaft forcing him to crawl all on fours lest he bumped his head. There was barely enough space for him to turn around and close the hatch – he almost stubbed his elbows trying.

It was pitch black, his own body blocked out what little of light might have fallen into the venting shaft from the guestroom. Garrett crept forwards, testing the way ahead with one of its hands. If the venting shaft lead suddenly downwards, he was too confined in his movements to react.

After several steps, his groping fingers seemed to slide upwards along a steep slope. Looking up, it seemed like the venting shaft above his head was widening. Garrett slowly raised his head, prepared to bump against the ceiling …

Nothing.

So the shaft really was leading up.

It was still tight, but nothing stopped him from raising to his feet. He felt around above his head and … there. His fingers slid across an edge. Grabbing it, he pulled himself up and found himself in yet another tight spaced venting shaft and forced onto his knees and hands.

Not far ahead streams of light fell through the narrow spaces of another hatch.

Garrett crawled closer and peered into the room.

Unlike the venting shaft on the lower floor, this one was much closer to the ground. He could see the posts of a bed somewhere in the middle of the room and a small drawer appeared to stand next to the headboard. The floorboards were covered with a simple but apparently new carpet.

A pair of bare feet passed by the hatch, dragging across the floor as if heavy with sleep. Garrett caught a look at the seam of a green dressing gown.

“Sebastian! Sebast …”

The man’s voice was interrupted by the cracking of a door, and heavy steps. Garrett crept closer to the hatch to try and catch a look at the other person, but the only thing he could see was their long stretched shadow on the carpet. At least it was enough to make out the shape of a helmet and a sheathed blade. Another guard.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Any disturbances tonight?”

“None so far, Sir!”

“The door to my study is locked, I hope?”

“It’s always locked at night, Sir.” Garrett could vividly imagine the guard rolling his eyes as he answered.

“Good, good. You may resume your watch, then.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The floorboards cracked under heavy steps and a door fell shut. Bare feet padded over the carpet and for a moment, Garrett caught sight of the house owners dressing gown up to his knees before he heard the shuffle of fabric and the man’s legs disappeared out of sight. A faint click sounded and a moment later, the bed chamber lay in darkness.

Garrett smiled to himself. The study it was then. If the house owner was careful enough to have it locked, then chances were high he would find the letter there. All he needed to do was to wait until the man had fallen asleep, and keep an eye and ear out for the guards.

The man seemed to shift and toss around in his bed. Garrett could hear the bed frame creaking, and the rustle of cloth against cloth. Farer away, heavy boots trampled up and down, muffled through the closed door. A thud resounded through the bedchamber, together with a moan and a yawn. Then silence.

Garrett reached for his wrench and began to unscrew the plate.

He couldn’t be sure, but the man had stopped shifting and rolling around in his bed, the creaking of the bedframe gone. But it was better to be ready. If the house owner wasn’t asleep yet, it wouldn’t take him much longer.

A loud snore broke through the silence, just as the steps of the guardsman passed by another time.

Garrett pushed the hatch open and crawled outside, closing the plate behind him, and rose to his feet. His knees ached a little from crawling through the tight shaft and waiting in it for so long. Garrett grinded his teeth and pushed it aside. It would pass. At least he hadn’t been forced to skid around on his stomach.

A quick glance over to the dark silhouette huddled in blankets on the bed reassured him that the man was indeed deep asleep. His face was almost buried in his pillows, and another loud snore erupted from his mouth.

Garrett crept past the sleeping man and towards the small streak of light that marked the door. He could hear the guard’s boots on the other side, stamping up and down the corridor. Peeking through the keyhole, he saw a door just across the hallway. There would be other doors as well. The bedroom wasn’t large enough to make up the entire upper floor of the building together with the study.

The guards silhouette passed by in front of the keyhole and disappeared out of sight. Garrett could hear his heavy steps on the stairs.

He didn’t waste any time. Waiting in the bed chamber would not bring him any closer to the letter. Opening the door just wide enough to slip through, he stepped out into the hallway.

There were two other doors he hadn’t been able to see from the keyhole – one next to the bedchamber he just left, and one at the end of the corridor. Finding the right one shouldn’t be difficult, unless the study wasn’t the only locked room on the second floor. In any case, he needed to be quick. The guard could return at any moment, and the floor was brightly lit by electric lights.

Garrett approached the first door, the one on the other side of the hallway, and carefully pushed down the handle. The door opened effortlessly. Not the right one, then. Glancing about his shoulder, he treaded other to the next one, careful to not cause any sound on the floorboards.

He could hear the guard stomping around the lower floor when he reached for the door handle to test if it would open. But it didn’t. The door would not open for even an inch. Locked.

_You people should know by now that a locked door is the same as inviting me in._

His lock picks slid into his fingers and found their way inside the keyhole almost as if they had been eagerly waiting for it. A lock with four pins. Someone had been a bit more careful than with the back door.

He had to be quick. The electric powered lights in the hallway left him far too exposed, and the guard could not stay downstairs forever. He could already hear his steps drawing closer, louder. It would not take long for the stairs to creak underneath the guardsman’s boots.

Finally, the last pin gave way. Garrett pushed down the handle, opening the door just wide enough to slip through, just as heard the steps squeak. The guard was on his way up.

Garrett could see him through the keyhole, eyes squinted underneath his helmet and looking around.

“Frigging waste of time.” The guard turned around and marched back to the stairs.

It was dark inside the study. A sturdy desk stood underneath the single window, and the walls to his left and right side were seamed with bookshelves. An unlit candlestick and a very nicely gilded pick were all Garrett could see on the tabletop. A moment later it was just the candle stick …

A switch next to the door brought the electric lights in the study to life. If he wanted to find the right letter, he had to be able to read them.

Garrett crouched down in front of the desk and began opening the drawers. One was filled with a couple of other gilded pens and a silver ashtray, but the others harbored documents, letters and scripts, all neatly stacked and apparently organized alphabetically.

The one he was looking for was strangely absent, as if it had been removed from the stack and stashed elsewhere. The addressor’s name was missing from the batches.

The upmost drawer on the left side of the desk though appeared to be secured with a lock.

Garrett had his lock picks slide into his hands and inserted them into the lock. It didn’t take him long to crack the mechanism – it was a simple three-pin lock, almost too easy.

_You people really should invest your money into better locks._

Even an amateur blackhand could’ve opened that. Who exactly did the man of the house think this lock was holding back?

Inside the drawer were only three letters, one of them signed with the sigil described in the letter and the initials P.R.V. Garrett pursed it and dropped the others. He had what he had come for. Part of him was curious to know what exactly was so important about the letter that someone wanted it stolen, but whatever it was – he could look into it once he’d made it out of the house.

Drawing the other drawer open, he took the gilded pens and the ashtray and turned off the lights again. It was time for him to leave.

The guard had left the upper floor again, as a glance through the keyhole told him, and Garrett took the chance to slip out onto the floor and over to the bedroom. The man of the house was still sleeping deep and sound in his bed, mouth slightly agape and snoring, and didn’t so much at turn as Garrett pulled the hatch open to slip into the venting shaft.

After dropping down, he didn’t head the way back he’d come but turned around. The shaft seemed to branch out here, and if he was lucky, he would eventually end up in the storage room he’d came across on his way in. It would spare him the way through the kitchen and the living room.

Crawling through the dark, he eventually found himself looking down into a tight, dark room, seamed with racks aching under the weight of food, pots and other things he could barely make out in the shadows. Garrett drew his wrench and unscrewed the hatch, dropping down onto the floor.

The hallway was just as empty as the moment he’d entered the house, and some moments later, he stood in the back alley.

The beggar was gone; he’d obviously disappeared while Garrett was busy breaking into the house. Just an empty flask on the cobblestone behind the crates betrayed that he’d even been here in the first place. A fat grey rat had its snout buried in the bottleneck, but run away as Garrett stepped closer.

Garrett looked after it, pursing his lips.

_Watching me, are you?_

He couldn’t say he was surprised.

But that was for another night. First, it was time to pay the old mill a visit.


	3. Chapter 2

The whole place felt just as empty and deserted as the day he first entered it. Only a trail of footsteps in the dust told him that she even had been here not long ago. But the traps were disabled, just as he’d left them after his first visit …

Garrett pushed the hidden button to open the trapdoor and dropped down into the small chamber that Erin had made her home. It was empty, just as the rest of the mill. Emptier than he’d first seen it …

The various personal items were missing, and when he felt the mattress, it was cold.

A pile of white rags lay next to it, something that hadn’t been here when he came the first time. Garrett kneeled down beside it and picked it up.

A dress. The same one Erin had worn when he found her … He almost hadn’t recognized it for what it was, ripped and shredded and dirty as it was. That it was here was evidence that she had been here …

Garrett sighed. It didn’t look like she would return any time soon. She had taken all her things, and only left the ragged white dress as if trying to shred an old skin, and there were no clues here as for where she might have gone. For anything he knew, she could have left the City altogether.

Maybe it was for the best.

What had happened in the past weeks had been enough to haunt him with nightmares every time he fell asleep. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like for Erin. If some distance would help her escape it, he couldn’t blame her.

He dropped the dress back to the ground and stood up.

It was time for him to leave. Erin would not return, so what use was it to stay? He had still a letter to deliver.

The old window creaked as he pried it open and slipped out into the night. He stopped for a moment, searching the shadows around the old mill from his high place, but there was nothing but the sound of the old water wheel turning and creaking in the current.

There was no one here.

Without Erin, this place was just another abandoned place in the City. Time to leave it abandoned again.

~ ~ ~

No amount of warm clothes could drive the cold from her bones. When she came past a mirror in a window, the eyes looking back at her out of the familiar face seemed hollow and foreign.

She barely recognized herself. Had she always looked so haggard, so tired and harried? The clothes were right, but the face wasn’t.

Erin quickened her step and left the woman with the worn face behind. She couldn’t look like that. She was stronger than that.

She just needed something to proof it. The thrill of a new assignment would drive the cold from her bones. All she needed was the rush of adrenaline cursing through her veins and life would return to her. She would be okay.

All she needed was to get back into her element.

Erin pulled her cloak tighter around her frame and hurried around the corner, but not after sending a quick glance about her shoulder. No one was there. She hadn’t been followed.

She ignored the heavy beating of her heart and hurried along the side alley until she stood in front of a dusted window. Peeking through the glass revealed that the room behind hadn’t changed in the past year. It still was almost absurdly tidy.

It was hard to believe she hadn’t been here for entire twelve months. Callow probably thought her dead. Time to proof him wrong and bring a little bit of healthy disorder to his stuff.

She couldn’t see him from where she was standing, but she had no doubt he was there. If he wasn’t in his study, he’d be upstairs and all she needed to do was make some noise to alarm him to her presence. Just the usual ritual.

There. Everything was going to be fine. She’d be her old self again by the end of the night.

Erin fished for the spare prybar she’d retrieved from the hidden cache in her hide-out and began working the window open. Slipping in was easy. She had her feet on the floor before she could think.

The room was empty, and it smelled just like in her memory of that heavy aftershave Callow always used and that seemed to fill every room he ever had been in as if to remind everyone that he was around.

She began aimlessly opening the drawers of his tidy desk and closed them with more force than needed. If Callow was anywhere in the house, he’d hear her and come looking. Especially if he suspected someone searching his stuff. She was just about kicking another one closed when the smell of aftershave seemed to thicken and a heavy hand fell upon her shoulder.

Erin jerked. Her elbow flew back and meet something warm and fleshy, producing a shout of pain from behind her and she reached for the knife, her heart bumping in her chest in a heavy pace and …

“Red Jenny’s tears … Erin?”, the very same voice that just had screamed whispered. “I thought you were dead!”

The voice brought her to her senses. Her hand, still with the knife, dropped to her side, but she held the weapon tightly grasped. Refused to let it go. As long as she held it, she was safe. She could turn the tables to her favor.

She was in control.

“I’m back now, right?”

“Where have you been …” Callow stopped. “Ah, never mind. You are here for a contract?”

“What else can I want here?”

“Alright. You are lucky I have something for you tonight.” He eyed her up and down, and she felt exposed under his scrutinizing gaze, once more reminded of the haggard woman in the mirror. But that wasn’t her. She was stronger. She was not frail and would not fail. “I expect you still don’t mind getting your hands a bit bloody?”

“No.”

“Good, good.” Callow furrowed his brow. “You have to get to a house in Stonemarket, somewhere along Baron’s Way. Details are here.” He reached for a closed envelope lying neatly atop his desk and handed it over to her. “Don’t disappear for another year this time.”

Erin stuffed the envelope into her cloak. She didn’t answer him, just turned around and left through the very same window she had entered without another word.

The unsettling feeling of invisible change seemed to creep after and follow her the entire way. She found herself peeking over her shoulder to the shadows, and her muscles grew more and more tense with every step.

It was stupid. She wasn’t being watched. It was just her mind playing tricks on her.

Erin shook her head and stepped underneath the next streetlight. She peered up and down the street, but there was no one to be seen safe for a tired looking passerby slurping along. She still waited until the man wasn’t facing at her any longer before she pulled the envelope out and ripped it open.

Inside were a letter and something that looked like a messy map of what appeared to be Stonemarket, with an arrow pointing towards one of the squares that represented buildings. On its backside was scribbled something that seemed to be a sketch of her prize – a neckband.

Erin unfolded the letter and read.

That explained why Callow had asked her if she still had no problem with bloody hands. The necklace wasn’t in a safe or jewelry box: the woman who lived in the house wore it all the time, even at night. The letter also mentioned a guard in the building.

That woman was obviously paranoid.

Erin stuffed both the letter and the map back into the envelope.

Paranoid or not, this shouldn’t be difficult. She didn’t have the claw anymore, but she still had her knife. Break into the house, get the necklace and get out. It was easy. Child’s play. If she wouldn’t know better she’d think that Callow was trying to cuddle her.

Anyway, this was something only she could do. This was there she could excel, where she was better than any other. It was easy for her, because she would do what she needed to do to get the job done.

Erin pulled her hood deeper into her face and shoved the envelope back into her cloak.

 

Baron’s Way was less guarded than she remembered. There only seemed to be a couple of Watch guards on patrol tonight, but what they lacked in numbers, they seemed to make up for in sheer agitation. If the Watch could be any more paranoid, she was probably just witness of it.

She wasn’t sure if it just was her imagination, but the cobblestone seemed bloodstained in places and here and there the smell of copper hang in the air.

The signs of visible change somehow calmed her. It meant it was not just her mind playing tricks on her. It meant that she hadn’t returned to the City after a year of being captive and used and found it unchanged, as if nothing had ever happened.

At least fewer guards meant less trouble. Maybe the change was a good one for now.

She waited until the heavy steps of the armed watchmen were well behind her before she darted from behind the crates and stole to the shadows on the other side. If she remembered the map correctly, the house she was looking for was somewhere to her right.

The building wasn’t hard to find, even though it looked just like half of the buildings in Stonemarket. Its windows were lit, and she could see a single silhouette moving around the second floor through the glass. Looking up the façade, the house was three stories tall, with a balcony on the second.

If she only still had had her claw … She could’ve entered the house through the balcony.

Erin pursed her lips into a thin line. A quick glance about her shoulder revealed that the next Watch patrol was somewhere at the end of the street. If she was quick enough, she’d be inside before they reached her or could catch her.

The prybar found its place underneath the window left of the door and she quickly worked the window open. Just as she heard the heavy steps of the Watch guards outside drawing closer, she slipped inside.

She found herself inside what looked like the living room. The floor was covered with a rug that muffled her steps as she moved over it, and an electric light illuminated a pair of cushioned armchairs and a painting in a simple wooden picture frame.

The door that seemingly lead into other parts of the house was closed.

Erin crouched over to it and peeked through the keyhole, but the small hallway behind was empty. All she could see were paneled walls and a burning candle in a bronze candlestick. No sign of the guard mentioned in the letter.

Quietly, she pushed the door open and slipped through. The floorboards croaked traitorously as she set foot on them. Erin cursed and cast a glance over her shoulder, but the other doors leading to the hallway remained closed and no armed man appeared.

Careful not to make any more noise, she snuck along the hallway on her toe tips. The woman, and with her, the neckband, were probably upstairs. Erin passed underneath another electric light that illuminated the steps ahead and peered around the corner.

A door at the top of the stairs opened, and she quickly stepped back and crouched down. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see a bulky figure moving, the floorboards grating underneath heavy boots. She caught a glimpse at a sheathed blade at the man’s hip before he entered another room and the door fell shut behind him.

Erin reached for her knife and snuck up the last few steps. The doors on the upper floor remained closed. A candle was stood in a candlestick in the middle of the hallway, and it cast her flickering shadow against the paneled walls. She stopped by the door through which the guard had disappeared and peeked through the keyhole.

The room seemed to be some sort of study – she could make out the guardsman’s figure standing near a broad wooden desk, cluttered with a lot of letters, and a lamp burning on it. He didn’t make any attempt at leaving the room, just shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Erin could hear him mutter underneath his breath, “Nothing ever happens here. I should just get to sleep.”

She stepped away from the door and headed along the hallway to the next. Peeking through the keyhole, her gaze fell upon the voluptuous silhouette of a woman who sat in front of a vanity. The woman’s back was turned to the door, and her long open hair – which she was busy stroking with a fancy looking hairbrush – hid any look on her neck.

That had to be her target.

Erin pursed her lips. She could not just enter the bathroom. The moment she opened the door, the woman would see her in the mirror and scream for her guard. But she would not keep brushing her hair forever …

Erin backed away from the bathroom door and turned to the last door on the second floor. All she had to do was hide inside the bedroom and wait for the woman to enter and head to bed. Child’s play. So much for her luck of patience …

After one last glance over her shoulder, she opened the bedroom door and slipped inside. A cabinet to her left was just the place she needed to hide. Now all what was left to do for her was to wait.

The inside of the cabinet smelled strongly of a heavy perfume, and Erin had the impression of choking on the dresses that hung around her. At least no one would see her so quickly if they decided to take a look inside … She could barely see anything at all herself, with the clothes blocking her vision.

At least she could still use her ears …

She didn’t know how long she had already been waiting, but she was thinking about barging out of the cabinet and finish the job the quick way, guard in the neighboring room be screwed, when she heard the door open. Steps passed by her hiding spot, soft and padded as if wearing slippers. The mattress creaked and she heard the shuffle of covers sliding across the bedsheets.

Time to finally take action.

Erin pushed the dresses inside the cabinet aside and the door open; her free hand reached for her knife.

It was dark in the room, just a single candle lit the head end of the bed. The woman’s face was hidden behind the book in her hands. She hadn’t noticed Erin yet.

Erin was at her side with a few quick steps.

The woman’s gaze flew up. Her eyes behind the pair of reading spectacles widened and her mouth opened …

“Help! Gua – ”

Erin’s could hear her own blood rushing in her ears. The woman was shaking, her hands grasped so tightly around her book that she began tearing the pages … Erin rushed forwards. Her knife caught the candlelight and for a moment, she could see her own pale face cast back before the blade tore flesh. The woman’s hands grasped for her throat, the book dropping to the blankets.

Red bubbled from the woman’s mouth as she tried to scream for help, but all what came across her lips was a wet gurgle. Her fingers cramped around her throat, blood red and going limp with the desperate movements.

Erin felt cold. Colder than before.

She reached for the neckband around the woman’s slit throat, but it didn’t feel like she was doing it. It felt more like someone else had taken control over her body and was unlacing the trinket. The neckband slid inside her pocket, just as the door to the bedchamber flew open and heavy steps stormed the room.

“What …?”

Erin whirled around and shot forwards, in the same moment the guardsman reached for his sword. She could feel it slice through her left sleeve, but she wasn’t sure if it had cut her arm or if the wetness was the murdered woman’s blood. It did not matter.

She leashed out and heard the man cursing, but didn’t stop. Every fiber of her being told her to run.

To outrun the guard who was yelling behind her and his heavy steps on the stairs as she darted down the steps and maybe even the terrifying cold that clang to her, that had returned and chilled her to the bone. The cold was something she couldn’t fight, that she could only run from, and darting for the door she wasn’t sure if she was running from the guard or from the chill.

She barged out into the streets, slamming the door shut behind her and scooting into the next dark side alley. Her hand was clasped so tightly around the knife that she could feel the hilt cutting into her skin but it didn’t matter. She had to get away.

She was seventeen again and back on the streets, the home she had had for the past years turned into another nightmare, like the one she had escaped from into this city. She had blood on her hands and a voice hissed into her ears, “You’re not in control. I am.”

She was back in the asylum, captured inside her own head, with no one to help her and only her own thoughts to seek refuge in, thoughts quickly invaded by sick and suffering people …

_You’re not in control._

She stumbled down some stairs and dropped to her knees.

_You’re not in control._

There were no longer steps behind her. No screaming, no yelling. Just silence.

She could barely make out the neckband as she held it in front of her eyes. Her fingers shook and the jewelry swung from one side to the other with it, capturing the sparse light from further down the street. The gems seemed to look at her like a hundred eyes.

The baron’s. Orion’s. Huntfield’s. The nurses’ in Moira. The patients’. The whole city’s.

_You’re not in control_ , they all seemed to whisper.

 


	4. Chapter 3

The dust inside the small room made her nose itch. She could barely see a thing in the dark.

Erin searched the inside of her cloak for a match and with a few scratches, it came to life.

If she’d been any taller, she probably would’ve bumped her head at the ceiling. It hung low, and she could easily touch it with her free hand. Her steps had left visible footprints in the thick layers of dust covering the floor. There were the silhouettes of what looked like crates in a corner of the room.

Erin stepped along the walls, counting her steps to get an impression of the size of the room. It didn’t seem very large, but was still more spacious than she’d thought at first glance.

The flame bit her fingers and she dropped the match with a hiss. The room once again disappeared into darkness. The next time she went here, she needed to bring candles.

A small sigh escaped her. It wasn’t perfect. Her old hide-out in the mill had been better, with all the traps she’d had installed. But it would do. It was good enough for what she needed – a place that was her secret, where she didn’t need to fear to be found and sought out by people she didn’t want to see.

Her mill wasn’t a safe refuge any longer. Not from the people she needed to hide from …

Groping along the wall, she found her way back to the small window through which she had entered. She pulled herself up and out into a dark backyard, filled with half-rotten crates and a fallen crossbeam. The overhanging rooftops from the buildings around blocked out almost all light.

She rounded the crates and stepped across the wooden bar over to the small opening between two of the houses, the only one not blocked by walls, or rubble. The courtyard and the surrounding houses looked like they hadn’t been tended to for a long time.

Erin looked back over her shoulder.

Now that she had found herself a new hide-out she didn’t know what else to do. She had brought the neckband to Callow and left before he could ask her anything about how exactly she had acquired it. She didn’t want to answer any questions.

She didn’t want to think back and remember how it had felt, cutting this woman’s throat just to take a stupid piece of jewelry. She didn’t understand. It had never been a problem, so why now? It didn’t make sense.

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

She clawed her nails into her brow and bit back a scream.

This was not what she had expected to happen. It should have been alright. So why did she feel even colder now?

It didn’t make sense. It just didn’t.

Maybe she just needed more time. More jobs. Something to keep her busy.

She couldn’t ask Callow. When she had brought him the neckband he’d told her that business wasn’t going well and that he didn’t have any new assignments at the moment.

She hadn’t said anything, but a part of her even had felt relieved upon hearing it. A year before, she had liked that Callow knew to appreciate her skills, but now …

She didn’t know what to do with herself anymore. When she closed her eyes, a million eyes seemed to stare at her from every corner and she couldn’t get rid of it. She couldn’t shake it off.

Just like she couldn’t shake off the cold.

 

The sky about her head was greying, and the streetlights slowly lost their brightness. A cold chill hang in the air, as if autumn wanted to remind her that someday soon, the warmth of summer had to end.

Erin pulled her cloak tighter around her frame and stepped into what little remaining darkness was left in the side alley. It was probably bad idea, but at this early hour, she at least would not need to fear about running into people she didn’t want to see right now …

One person, especially.

She cast a glance about her shoulder, to the dark silhouette of the clock tower that stood against the clouded early morning sky like a silent guardian. The giant clock was another eye, staring down at her. It had her shudder and turn around.

The backyard behind the tavern was deserted. There were not even voices coming from the taproom – all guests had already left and headed home. At this hour, the Crippled Burrick reminded her of the carcass of a dead animal. The noises and the smells that defined the place were all but gone.

Erin wasn’t surprised to find the cellar door locked tight. Even without eavesdropping at it, she could hear loud snoring through the bars. They were pretty much the only noise and enough to almost swallow the soft clicking of her lock picks as she unlocked the door.

She slipped inside and let the door fell shut louder behind her than was entirely necessary. But she wanted him to notice her. She couldn’t risk waiting for him to wake up someway half through the day …

Or maybe she should just leave. What was she thinking? As if Basso wouldn’t send one of his pet birds over to the clock tower the moment he saw her! If Garrett knew she was here … The chill clinging to her seemed to sharpen, biting her to the bone.

Too late.

She heard a rustle in the bedsheets, and sudden silence filled the room when the snoring disappeared.

“Who’s there?” Basso’s voice was slurred from sleep, but wary.

A pair of bare feet padded across the floor. She reached for the door handle …

Suddenly, screeching filled the basement, loud and angry enough that she jumped and pressed her palms to her ears. A dozen, a hundred birds seemed to caw at her, and all hope of escaping unseen vanished …

“Argh, shut up, Raymond, you useless piece of feathers.” She heard a scratching noise, and the candle of the desk went ablaze, casting unsteady light across her face. “Erin? Fuck, you look like garbage.” He looked her up and down, sighed. “What’re doing here, at this ungodly hour?”

“Do you have something to do for me?”

Basso narrowed his eyes. “A job, hm? Sure you’re up to it? Heard you’ve been through a serious loud of shit …”

“I’m here, am I?” She crossed her arms before her chest. The last thing she wanted was pity. And if he knew what she had done … The cold seemed to settle and gnaw at her stomach. He’d never forgive her.

That he hadn’t send her away immediately could only mean that he didn’t know. Yet.

“Alright, alright. Take a look at my desk, there has to be something.”

She could feel his gaze tickling her neck, piercing like needles shoved into her skin, when she searched the chaos on the table plate for letters. He seemed to follow every of her movements, as if looking for a sign of weakness, as if preying on her … Her fingers clasped around a small stack of letters and she pulled back, glancing over to the fence. He hadn’t moved, but was still watching.

She flipped through the letters, six of them, most of them easy jobs, simple break ins. Get in, take some pricy trinket, get out. Just what she needed. Something to set her back on track, to keep her busy, to chase the cold away that clang to her bones …

Maybe if she did them all, one by one, everything would return to the way it was. Maybe if she did them all, she could return to what she was good at. And everything would be okay. It had to be.

She stuffed them all into her pockets.

“You know Garrett’s been asking for you.”

Erin clenched her hands into fists. Of course he had. A year before she’d given everything to hear these words, but now her stomach coiled and churned at the mere thought.

“Don’t tell him I was here.” It was a plea. She hated how desperate she sounded.

“You know I can’t do that, Erin.”

“You can. Garrett … He doesn’t want to see me, anyway.”

Basso sighed. “Bullshit. He’s shit at showing it, but he’s probably half-crazy not knowing where you are. You should’ve seen him these past weeks, was obvious he was blaming himself for what happened.”

“I don’t care, just don’t tell him.” What did it change, knowing he’d been worried for her, that he’d been placing the blame on himself?

“Alright, alright. I keep my mouth shut.” Basso looked her over, up and down. “So, now that you’re back, where do I send messages to?”

“Where you always send them to.” Her new hide-out had to stay a secret, a safe place where neither Basso nor Garrett could find her.

She already knew that coming here had been a mistake. If it was between her and Garrett, Basso’d always choose the Master Thief. Even if he intended to stay silent about her visit, the moment Garrett asked him about her, he would spill it all out. She should never have come here.

She didn’t wait for Basso’s answer; she didn’t even stay long enough for a good-bye. The door fell shut behind her and she was out in the backyard again, and even through her shoes, she could feel the coldness of the cobblestone biting her toes.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, but the unrelenting chill had settled inside her and even the warmth of the rising sun could not drive it away.

 

Underneath her bare feet was something soft and squishy. She had to step careful not to trip over it. It was pitch-dark, she could not see her own hands nor feet, and the silence surrounding her was absolute. Her own breathing, the beating of her heart were the only sounds, almost thunderous in their volume.

Suddenly, something slid around her ankle and bit into her shin. She reached for her knife, but the moment she took hold of it, the ground was suddenly ripped from underneath her feet and she fell.

Something run across her hair, and she could feel a sting biting into her scalp, could feel something wet and warm drippling down her neck and the smell of copper filled her nose. She lashed out, fingers grasped tightly around her knife, and a loud shriek cut through the darkness.

From one moment of the other, the darkness was gone, and she cowered on the ground. A pair of wide, dead eyes stared up to her out of a featureless face, elongated limps clawing for her, nails sharp as razors lashing for her …

She was faster.

Her knife found the creature’s throat and a rain of blood drops sprayed into her face, the heavy scent of copper thickening until it was choking her …

The walls around her were white, as was the floor, and the ceiling, and there was no way out. No doors, no windows. Not even the opening of a venting shaft, or a break in the wall. Everything looked the same.

The scent of copper hang in the air together with something else that had her head spinning, and a hundred, a thousand screams filled her mind, so suddenly, so loud that she crushed to floor and to her knees with her fingers clawed into her face until she tasted blood on her lips …

_“Back where you belong.”_

Someone pulled her to her feet, but she couldn’t move, her legs and arms had gone limp and heavy and her screams were silenced and swallowed by the others that still filled her head, drowned any thought …

Something hit her head …

Erin shot up in the dark, lashing out, but her fingers met nothing. There was just something wet and warm drippling down the bridge of her nose and the side of her face, and an angry throb at her forehead …

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness around her, to make out shapes in the shadows, to see the small beam of light cutting through the small window to her side.

The abandoned cellar.

It just had been a dream. A nightmare. It was past. She was safe. She was free. She was in control. There was nothing clawing for her from the dark. There was no one to drug her and send her into darkness.

She reached for her brow and hissed at the sudden pain. A gash. She must’ve hit her head when she woke up.

Her fingers clasped around the small match box next to her mattress and with a scratch, the match went ablaze. Her hands were shaking more than she wanted to admit when she reached for the oil lamp on the crate at the top of her sleeping-place and lit it.

It couldn’t be far past afternoon, but the mere thought of trying to sleep again made her shiver.

Instead, she pulled out a piece of charcoal and a sheet of paper from the side of the mattress and crouched down on the floor. Drawing had always helped her focus her mind. It had been the only thing that had kept her at least half-sane in Moira ...

It would help her pass the time until it was dark enough to head out.


	5. Chapter 4

A nightmare woke Garrett early this evening.

He startled up, and found his fingers clasped tightly around his blankets, and his legs tangled with the covers. The beating of his own heart was almost dismayingly loud in the silence; it even seemed to drown out the rattling of the clockwork.

Garrett took a deep breath and kicked with his legs, struggling against the blankets. Forcing himself to rise, he almost dripped over the pile of covers. A kick with his right foot pushed them underneath the bedframe and out of his way. He would probably need to crawl to recover them later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Dim light fell through the windows upstairs, painting the floorboards in bloody reds.

Garrett suppressed a yawn. It was too late to try and get a bit more sleep now. He could just as well get some things done, when he was already awake.

It was hard to focus. The slightest creaking of the floorboards had him look up and tensed his body. The tiniest flicker of shadows out of the corners of his eyes set him on edge. After twenty minutes, he was still staring at the same arrow.

It had a crack where he had gripped it too tight.

Garrett sighed and threw the ruined shaft into the fire-basked. The flames hissed and flared up, and their shine seemed to melt seamlessly with the light of the sunset before it calmed down. The shadows it left behind appeared bigger, and oppressive.

As if a dozen glowing eyes were searching for him in the dark.

Garrett raised a hand, rubbed his temples. He could feel the seed of a headache growing behind them.

There were no eyes in the shadows. Just the afterimage of the flaring fire, that was all. He was just tired. It would pass.

Stifling another yawn, he grabbed the next unfinished arrow shaft and started over.   

 

A small turmoil had drawn the Watch guards’ attention on the plaza. Dropping from the balcony in front of the Watch station, he caught a glimpse at a limp body in a puddle of its own blood. Garrett crouched over to the crates at the entrance to the back alley.

Another silhouette, a woman’s from the look of it, stood next to the fallen body, kicking it and it screaming.

“You bastard! Thought you get away with this shit? That’s for my husband, you arsehole!”

One of the guards tried to approach the woman and pull her away from the body, but she kicked and screamed even louder.

“That’s it? That’s justice in this city? That’s the murderer there, that’s the murderer …”

A sudden punch to the left side of her face silenced her and send her limply to the cobblestones. The guard muttered something under his breath and grabbed the woman’s fallen form to toss her unceremoniously over his shoulders.

_The City’s justice at its finest._

Garrett turned around. Cursing and streaming from the plaza seemed to follow him into the side street, but he couldn’t hear any of it drawing closer.

He’d almost made it to the backyard when suddenly the gate to his side opened and a small figure darted out of it and into the side street, bumping right into him. Garrett caught a glimpse of a gaunt but round face framed by strands of hair the same color as the dirt of the streets before the figure jumped back and stared at him out of large, wary eyes. A boy, not older than twelve, perhaps.

Garrett reached for the door to keep it from falling shut before he could slip through himself, but the boy suddenly grabbed for his arm.

“If you look for Basso, he’s not home.” The child’s voice was low and hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Garrett didn’t answer. Suddenly his collision with the child didn’t seem to be such a coincidence anymore.

“You’re … him, right? The Master Thief? You look just like on the posters.”

“What do you want?” Garrett narrowed his eyes.

“Basso told me to tell you he’s at the river. North of the ruins of Auldale bridge.”

The boy jumped back and whirled around, scooting along the side-alley and out of sight. If he tried, he could still catch him, but it was no use. There was only one way to find out if the boy’s words held a grain of truth.

The backyard of the Crippled Burrick was almost empty, safe for two men smoking pipes in a corner. One of them gesticulated wildly with an almost empty bottle, enthusiastically enough to evoke a loud curse from his companion.

Garrett kneeled down before one of the basement windows and peeked through. The cellar was dark, all candles extinguished. All was quiet; he could not even hear Basso’s new magpie screeching. He rose to his feet and approached the door, but it didn’t give way even for an inch. Locked.

So maybe the street urchin hadn’t lied after all.

_For both our sakes, I hope this whole thing isn’t just a set-up._

He didn’t like trusting the word of an unknown child that had bumped into him on the streets, but right now, it was the best lead he had.

And if Basso really wanted to meet him at the river near the ruins of the collapsed Auldale Bridge, he was curious to find out what was behind it.

 

A cold wind blew over the rooftops when Garrett reached the wharf. To his right hand the broken silhouette of Auldale Bridge loomed over the still waters of the river. The night kept the new scaffoldings in darkness. It would take months, perhaps even years, to rebuild – and all the people who had had their houses atop the bridge probably had lost their homes forever, along with much of their fortune.

If they hadn’t died when the Craven had attacked Auldale Bridge, of course.

_The City always takes it back._ Fortune didn’t stick for long with the wealthy. Someone more fortunate or more skilled was always eager to claim their share.

Garrett kept low to the rooftops and peered down to the riverbank. Below him, the street following the wharf was almost empty, safe for a few bored looking Watch guards patrolling with torches. If Basso was down there somewhere, he likely kept out of their line of sight.

Creeping along the edge of a rather flat roof, Garrett caught sight of a small nutshell of a boat floating in the water. Its silhouette was almost invisible, hidden in the shadow the ruins of Auldale Bridge cast over the water. He almost hadn’t noticed it all. The Watch guards, on the other hand, seemed entirely oblivious to its presence.

Garrett waited for the Watch patrol to pass by and climbed down into the alley. Some steps behind him a torch scorched the wall, casting restless shadows over the cobble stone street and the facades around. He made quick to the shadows at the end of the alley, where he stopped to look for the guards. A flickering point of light seemed to illuminate the wharf somewhere in the distance, unveiling the sharp silhouettes of two men. Far enough away.

He crossed the street and climbed down the stairs to the boat, crouched down and kept close to the dark stones. From here, he could see the silhouette of a man in the boat, with his back turned to him. The figure of a bird set upon his shoulder.

_Looks like the child wasn’t telling lies. What a rarity in this city._

“If you’re waiting for me, I’m not going to jump from the river.” Garrett stepped out of the shadows.

Basso almost jumped, and suddenly a knife flashed in his hand. “Shit, Garrett! Announce your presence for once! Almost gave an old man a heart attack!”

“Try it with sports.”

Basso snorted. “Don’t need them, you keep me on the hop easy enough.”

“Well, with that watchdog, we’re going to on the hop sooner than later.” Garrett eyed the bird with suspicion. The magpie was surprisingly quiet now, but he doubted Raymond would cooperate for much longer.

“Then better see that you get into that damn boat.”

The river seemed suddenly a lot closer and deeper, the boat smaller, it’s swinging and rocking stronger. Garrett hadn’t moved an inch.

“Why?”

“Aw, still don’t trust boats? Well, we need to cross that river and you can’t swim for shit. So hurry up and get in here.”

Garrett suppressed a sign and the urge to take a deep breath. Bracing himself, he took a step and set a foot into the boat. It stirred and swung dangerously under his weight … For a moment, he was sure it would sink, that he would drown in the river, swallowed by the dark, deep waters … Garrett pursed his lips and set down.

The board rocked under him, almost threw him off balance and pressed him against the rail before it stilled.

He couldn’t wait for Auldale Bridge to be rebuild. He usually enjoyed a challenge and a bit of danger, but he would someday gladly die if he never needed to set foot on another boat again. The collapse of the Bridge made heists in Auldale suddenly so much less tempting …

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Garrett tried not to look at the water.

“Ah, yes, well.” Basso reached for the rows and the boat slowly drifted away from shore, to the midst of the river. Garrett gripped the bench tighter. “That client you stole that letter for? She wants to see you. Said it’s about another job, something better discussed eye to eye.”

“In Auldale?”

“She was very stubborn about that. But the job promises a lot of coin and if she wants secrecy … C’mon, you’re not a tiny bit curious?”

Garrett tried not to think about the rocking of the boat under him, and the water that licked against the rail. “Could be a set-up. Your client choses the location, lures me …”

“Well, in your line of work, you have to take risks some time. Besides, that woman has enough money and prestige to not bother with some lousy fifty thousand more.”

The boat swayed from one side to the other. Garrett dug his nails so deep into the wood that he could feel a splinter piercing his skin. And the far side of the river still was too far away for his liking.

“Where am I to meet this … client of yours?”

“Silver Lion Inn, the back door. You know the place?”

“Sure.” He had broken into the Silver Lion some years prior. The house was well known to host wealthy and often noble guests from outside the City. He’d taken the opportunity to relieve some of them of their trinkets more than just once in the last years.

“Does that mean you give it a shot?”

“Yes.” He could just as well look into it when he was already on the way. And if the whole thing turned out to be a trap … He knew the Silver Lion Inn, and he hadn’t left his hide-out unprepared. He’d hate it if he had entered this shaking nutshell of a boat for nothing.

Garrett shifted on his seat, cursing when the boat rocked suddenly underneath him and water sprayed from the river. The shore behind him lay in darkness that shrouded every detail, with only the lit windows breaking through, and several feet of water between the boat and the quay.

If someone decided to look at the river this moment, they wouldn’t miss the small boat in the midst of it. There was no place to hide, no place to escape to. If the rocking vessel wouldn’t drown him first.

“There’s … uhh … something else I’ve got to tell you, Garrett.” Basso’s voice broke through the silence.

“There’s a catch to this whole ordeal.”

“What? No …” Basso shook his head. Raymond on his shoulder stirred up with loud screeching, batting his wings. “Stupid bird, you want to have us killed?” The magpie didn’t seem to care; it screeched even louder. Basso shoved a piece of dried meat down its throat, silencing it. “Who was I? Ah, yes. You asked for Erin some days ago, right?”

Garrett sat up straighter in his seat, the rocking of the boat suddenly forgotten. “You didn’t tell me.”

“That’s because … shit, Garrett, she looked bad, and she practically ordered me not to tell you. You should’ve seen her. Thin and pale, she looked worse than you when you came back. That wasn’t the Erin I remember.”

He had expected something like that. But hearing it was … different. It brought reality into mere speculation, gave his worry something to feed on. That she had asked Basso to keep quiet about her visit was … He couldn’t say he was surprised. Why should she want to see him, of all people? She had called out to him for who knew how long and he had ignored her, only listening when it was almost too late.

“What did she want?”

“Asked me for a job, what else. She’s just as stubborn as you are. I gave her some of the easier commissions.” Basso shook his head and shoved another piece of dried meat down the magpie’s hungry beak. “And before you ask: No, I don’t know where her new hide-out is. She didn’t want to tell me. Just told me to send new messages to the old place.”

“I thought that she hadn’t returned to the mill. It didn’t look like she would come back.”

“But, honestly, Garrett. What the fuck happened between you two that she doesn’t want to see you? You’re going to keep that a secret forever?”

There was no point in avoiding that question forever. And if there was one person he could trust, it was Basso.

“When I found her, she was … just waking from some sort of coma. And angry. Turned against Orion first, then me.” Garrett tried to trace the veins of the wood, but it was too dark. He couldn’t find them. “She was calling out for me, Basso. I wasn’t listening. She thought I didn’t care.”

“You think you failed her? Bullshit. You had no way of knowing she was still alive. You did what you could.”

“I took her claw. She wouldn’t have fallen if she’d had it.”

“Then you could blame me, for putting the two of you together that night. Or, wait, for introducing you in the first place. Or blame Madam Xiao Xiao or the captain of the ship that brought her here. You couldn’t have known. Past is past.”

Garrett looked away. If he just could explain to her … But she didn’t want to see him, and he couldn’t blame her for it. Not that he’d known how to go about it anyway. It was hard enough talking about it with Basso, and already seemed like a bad idea. Maybe it was for the best if he never saw her again. Maybe that was what she needed. A life without him.

It was no use lamenting about things he couldn’t change. Perhaps that meeting with Basso’s client was just what he needed.

~ ~ ~

Her heart beat so fast she was half-sure she wouldn’t hear the soft click inside the lock that told her when it would give way. When the cupboard finally opened for her grasping fingers, she had to keep herself together not to sign with relief.

A part of her had already feared that she had forgotten. A part of her had feared that her fingers had lost their deftness and sensibility during the past year, that she was nothing more than a pathetic excuse of who she had been once.

But the cabinet was open, its lock picked, and her prize ready for her to take.

Erin’s fingers closed around the handle of the silver mirror. It was cool against her fingers, and when she turned it, she could see the fine engravings snaking across its back and circling around a polished gemstone of deep blue color – a lapis lazuli.

The thing probably wasn’t worth that much, but she didn’t care. She would get paid, and she had made it to the cupboard in the bathroom unseen.

She could still do it. Moira, the Baron and his bastard brother, Huntfield, all of them hadn’t destroyed her, they hadn’t been able to break her. She was here, she had been successful. She was alive, but Huntfield and Orion were not, and no one had seen the Baron since the day she had woken.

She had survived.

Hastily, she stuffed the mirror into her bag and turned to the window. Her fingers slid underneath the shutter and she stemmed it open, her arms and shoulders protesting violently. Erin pushed it further up and slid through the opening until she was only hanging from her fingertips.

For a moment, a terrible moment, she felt the pull of the abyss underneath her feet, like claws grasping for her from below. It took all her willpower to loosen her grip from the sill and drop …

What if the blazing white-blue light would just swallow her again?

It were just the familiar streets of Stonemarket, smelling like oil and stone and metal and onions and sour ale and dirt. The stench of the river lay underneath it all, or was it that of the City? The dry cobblestone underneath her feet was familiar, as was the looming silhouette of the Clock Tower just a few streets away. It’s giant clock face seemed to stare right at her, like the eye of a cyclops.

Erin shook her head and reached for her bag to check if the mirror was still whole after the drop. Her fingers slid across the engravings on its back, and over smooth and cool glass. She hadn’t broken it. Good.

With her other hand, she tugged her hood deeper into her face and stepped out into the streets, leaving the back-alley behind she’d dropped into. She could hear drunk laughter from a tavern a few side-streets away, and distracted humming from a bored guard on the other side of the street. She made sure to keep out of his line of sight and in the shadows when she passed by.

It wasn’t difficult to avoid the guards patrolling the plaza. She’d done it a dozen and more times before, and her body recalled every step to take, every place to hide. A patch of new and slick red had drenched the cobblestone a few steps ahead. Erin had seen enough blood in her life to know what it was, but she didn’t stop to think about it. People died every day and night in the City. It was just how things were …

She grabbed her cloak and pulled it tighter around her frame, quickened her steps.

He’d call it a useless waste of life.

Erin ducked into the giant shadow of the clock tower and crept along its façade. When she looked up, she could only see the faintest glimmer of the giant clock face, the shadow of one of its hands moving slowly towards eleven.

She hadn’t seen him since …

The grappling hook was in her hand before she could think about it, and she threw it, felt the pull on the rope as it tangled with the rail above. It was less intuitive than with her claw, and slower, but she worked her way up until she stood on the archway.

Erin retrieved the grappling hook and turned to the small maintenance door, the one nobody dared to use for their fear that the clock tower was haunted. When she pushed the handle, she wasn’t surprised to find it locked.

She kneeled down and inserted her lock picks. That it was a really complicated lock wasn’t surprising either. Ideally opened only with a key, but her lock picks would do the trick.

Finally, with a soft click inside the lock, the door gave way.

~ ~ ~

The claw hooked in the crown of the backyard’s door and with one seamless motion, Garrett pull himself up onto the wall. Ducking into what little shadow there was, he glanced about and below. Two torches on opposite walls of the small, walled backyard left the area brightly lit. The ground had been cleaned off, probably not long ago, because he could see little dirt on the cobblestone and the stench of waste was almost completely absent.

He couldn’t spot any guards.

Still, he reached for his quiver and aimed his bow at one of the torches. If someone decided to look down into the backyard, he didn’t want to take the risk to be seen in their flickering light. With a splash, the vial on the arrow’s tip broke and the flame extinguished, leaving parts of the backyard in shadows.

Turning on his heels, he signaled his fence that all was clear, and dropped down into the backyard.

Immediately, he sidestepped into the newly created shadows and crouched down. Looking up, he noticed that the windows overlooking the backyard were dark.

In the next moment, the gate to his side opened almost without any sound.

Basso stepped into the backyard with obviously little worry for possible observers. The magpie on his shoulder had stirred from its sleep and looked around, head cocked to the sight and his beak slightly opened, as if readying itself to croak.

“Keep an eye on your watchdog, or this will be a short visit.”

Basso raised a hand to tickle Raymond, and the bird nestled into its fingers for a moment before jumping away.

“Aw, Garrett, just relax for a moment. My client gave me her word that there will be no one to watch this courtyard tonight.”

“And you trust her?”

“Red Jenny’s breath, of course not. But I know people, and she’s not the sort to pull some shit on us. She’s the one wanting something, right?”

“Don’t take this personal, Basso, but you’re a horrible judge of character.”

“Eh, at least you’ve never been double-crossed by my clients, right? Even when Orion turned out to be a real shithead.”

Garrett choose to say nothing. Now that he was already here, it was too late to call it done and leave. Especially since Basso’s boat was his only way of leaving and he could not row if his life depended on it. Something he would need to remedy one day, but the mere thought of spending more time in boats had his insides turn with unease.

Basso waved him over to the backdoor.

“So … uh … that’s a high born woman in there. Try to be nice for once. It’d hate to lose that money because my best thief doesn’t know how to talk to a lady.” Basso scratched at a fading bruise just below his top head. “Maybe try it with a smile.” He raised his fist and knocked at the back door three times in short succession, then a fourth time after a brief pause.

After some grueling moments of waiting, the door cracked open just wide enough for Garrett to catch a glance at a dark eye and a receding hairline.

“Ah, it’s you.” The voice was barely more than a whisper. Garrett heard steps and the door was pulled open. A man of average height, dressed in shades of dark green, with greying hair and a pudge face stood in the door frame. He stepped aside, signaling them to enter. “Upstairs”, he mumbled, his voice still little above a murmur. “Room Four, second floor.”

“I’ll wait here.” Basso shrugged apologetically. “Her ladyship wants to meet you alone.”

“Fine.”

It felt wrong. Garrett had only ever been to the Silver Lion uninvited, and to follow the corridor under the watchful gaze of the man at the door had him on edge. There was too much light, and even one pair of eyes watching him was enough. Even when he was at the Crippled Burrick, he normally preferred not to be seen unless he decided so.

This … He could only hope the whole ordeal would be worth it.

At least the light was dim on the servant’s staircase, and the corridor on the second floor empty. He couldn’t spot any guards. Unusual for a hotel like the Silver Lion Inn, that lodged so many important and high born guests. From his past visits, he recalled at least two guards where no was none.

Somehow, it did nothing to soothe his nerves.

The room with the brazen number 4 was almost at the end of the hallway, next to what looked like an older Montonessi painting. If the situation had been any different, Garrett might have been tempted to steal it for his own collection.

The suite was, from what he could see through the keyhole, only lit by candles and not electric lights, and as luxurious and comfortable furnished as one could expect from a house like this. He spotted a broad and elaborately decorated bedframe befitting the Baron’s chambers, and a richly woven carpet that was undoubtedly an import from oversea. But no sign of the woman he was to meet here.

Garrett rose from his crouch and tested the door handle. Closed, but not locked. The door opened without any noise, and he slipped inside.

There was a door to what might the bathroom some steps to his right, and a broad chimney with a set of lush armchairs arranged in the semicircle. Both he hadn’t been able to see through the keyhole.

A woman was seated in one of the armchairs, her long gloved fingers resting on the armrests like the paws of a predator. He couldn’t see her face, but her carefully groomed strawberry blond hair that she wore in an elegant updo.

The carpet muffled each of his steps to nothingness as he treaded closer, trying to stay behind her back and not betray himself before he was ready to. The woman shifted in her armchair, straightening her posture. One gloved hand slid across the armrest and disappeared.

Garrett shifted his weight from one foot to the other and stepped forward, into her line of sight.

The woman in the armchair stiffened, and her hands closed for a moment into fists before she managed to recompose herself.

“Well done. I did not hear you, Master Thief.” The thin, red line of her mouth quirked into a faint smile.

She was dressed in pale satin. Her face wasn’t very remarkable, the red painted lips tried to create an illusion of fullness where none existed. Her eyes, though, were sharp and shrewd. Garrett guessed she was about ten years older than him.

“Hm …” Her gaze slid up and down his frame. “You are smaller than I expected, Master Thief.”

Garrett didn’t respond.

“Please, sit down.” She waved over to the armchair right next to her.

Garrett didn’t move. The armchair looked dangerously comfortable, and he couldn’t allow himself a moment’s distraction if he needed to leave quickly. Judging by how deeply she was seated in her own, getting up would take a bit longer than was acceptable.

“It is your choice, naturally, Master Thief.” She reached for a decanter on the coffee table in front of her. “Some wine, maybe? I have been told it is a rare Illyrian brand …”

“I don’t drink.”

One of her plucked eyebrows arched. “So you can speak, after all.” The woman filled one of the gilded wine glasses and sipped, but not once took she her eyes off him. “Forgive my manners, I have not introduced myself. I am Lady Emmeline Lamond.” She replaced her glass of wine, her eyes still lingering on him. “And you must be increasingly curious as for why I called you here.”

“If there’s coin in it.”

“The reward I would offer is nothing to laugh at, I assure you.”

“I’m listening.”

Lady Emmeline took a second sip from her wine glass, still without keeping her eyes off him. “Basso told me it has been you who retrieved the letter for me. It has been a very interesting read, to put it mildly. In it I found written the locations of the blueprints I have been looking for in the past months.”

“Let me guess: Now you want me to steal them for you.”

“I see, we understand each other.” Lady Emmeline turned her glass between her fingers. “These blueprints are of utmost importance to me and therefore, I need the very best larcenist in the City to procure them. That is, you.” She replaced her wine glass on the coffee table. “The blueprints are hidden in the workshop of an engineer named Patrick Randolph Vance.”

“P.R.V.”

“Exactly. Vance’s residence is located in Dayport. If the plans I managed to acquire are still correct, his workshop can be found in the basements. The mansion appears to be well guarded, and I would not put it past him that he has other safety measures installed.”

Lady Emmeline reached into the folds of her dress and pulled a sealed envelope out of it. “If you accept, I will reward you fittingly.”

Everything about her, from her gaze to her posture up to her voice told him that she wouldn’t accept a no for an answer. Not that he cared about what she thought he should do. She could hardly force him to accept the commission. Well, he guessed she could _try …_

Good for her that he wasn’t planning on declining.

He didn’t like this situation, but the job had piqued his interest. A well-guarded mansion and an unknown amount of security systems … and a hidden prize to top it all. He hadn’t taken a really challenging job since he had ventured into the hidden city (and that hadn’t been enjoyable at all, given the severity of the situation, with Erin’s life and well-being on the line).

“Fine. I get you these blueprints.”

Lady Emmeline Lamond’s red painted lips quirked into a smile that reminded Garrett of that of a cat that had snitched whipped cream.

“I am glad to hear it.” She extended her hand towards him, twisting the envelope between her fingers. “I believe you will find this useful. These are the plans of the Vance estate.”

Garrett took the envelope from her, grabbing it on its edge to not touch her gloved fingers, and pocketed it. He would have enough time to study the plans when he returned to the Clock Tower.

“I look forward to your successful return, Master Thief.”

~ ~ ~

The moment she set a toe inside the clock tower, her heartbeat became a thundering crescendo inside her chest, drumming so hard against her ribcage that she thought it would just burst out.

She could feel the tickle of something cold and slick running down her neck and brow.

A chilly breeze seemed to grip her and had her desperately pull her cloak tighter around her frame. The cold wouldn’t go away. It was a relentless freeze in her veins, and she wasn’t sure if her heart was still pumping blood through her body, or ice.

The staircase was every inch as far away as when the door had opened. Her feet seemed to be frozen in place, as if the chill that clung to her bones had manifested to ice and stuck her toes to the doorway.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t climb the endless stairs up to Garrett’s apartment and await his disappointment, his judgement, his silent condemnation, and his rejection. She couldn’t climb up and see the betrayal in his eyes, the resentment, the anger and the _hate._ She just couldn’t.

Why would he, of all people, want to see her after all what had happened?

She should never ever have come here.

It was a mistake.

Before she could think, she had whirled around and run. What had frozen her in place now drove her steps and chased her across the rooftops.

The giant clock face seemed to judge her from afar. There was no escaping it. She could only run.

 


	6. Chapter 5

The maintenance door stood ajar.

Garrett reached for his bow and swiftly picked a choke arrow from his quiver. His finger rested on the bowstring lightly, ready to pull back and let the projectile loose and find its target at the slightest sign of a threat.

Crouched down, he approached the door and peered through the crack into the dark staircase. It lay silent and seemingly deserted – he searched the crates, glanced underneath the steps and into the dark shadows in the corners, but everything appeared unchanged. There were no silhouettes not meant to be here, no strange movements from the corner of his eye.

After a last, quick glance about his shoulder, Garrett slipped inside. He took the arrow shaft between his teeth to pull the door shut behind him, before he drew a bead on the bow again and treaded to the stairs.

He stopped at the first step and glanced around, searching the shadows and the dark corners once again. Still nothing.

A few steps farther up the stairs he stopped again, crouching down to inspect the trap he had installed here. His fingers slid nimbly across the hidden trigger and the mechanism. It looked untouched, unchanged. He could see no sign that the mechanism had been triggered recently.

_Well, it can’t have been a draft, unless the wind has learned how to use lock picks._ He took a careful step across the trap and continued his way up. Maybe the intruder had managed to get past this one … _That means you’ve either left or you’re still here. Let’s host a nice reception._

The next few traps were similarly unchanged, with no sign of it being triggered in the recent past. By the time Garrett reached his apartment underneath the clockworks, he was on edge.

Maybe the intruder already had left, but he needed to check every corner, and look if anything was missing. If someone had managed to steal from him he’d never live it down, least of all to himself.

Still silent and with the bow drawn, he treaded other to the showcases displaying his collection. He hadn’t put that much effort in acquiring all these fine pieces for them to be stolen away right from under him. The locks securing the vitrines were all in place and counting the trinkets he found them complete. The gallery of Montonessi paintings was still in place, no frame suspiciously empty. He laid the arrow down beside him to open the chest that held his collection of priceless unica, but none of them were missing either.

Garrett closed the chest and picked up the arrow from the floor.

That nothing of his collection was amiss didn’t soothe his nerves. He treaded over to his bed underneath the stairs and checked under it, as well as behind the crates, but nothing. Not a trace of the intruder. Upstairs, he looked behind the bookcases and underneath his desk for good measure, peeked through the windows if maybe his guest hid outside but still found nothing and no one.

Staring outside, he lowered his bow and laid the arrow down on the windowsill.

Strange. If someone had been here, they were long gone. Maybe they never had reached his apartment in the first place, driven away by their fear of angry ghosts. That, or …

There was one person who knew how to get past his traps unharmed and safely. A person who was undoubtedly capable of unlocking the maintenance door.

_Have you been here?_

Garrett pursed his lips. If he’d been a little bit quicker, he could’ve seen her. Spoken to her. Even he didn’t know what he would’ve said if it had come to it.

Maybe it was better that their paths hadn’t crossed again. Maybe it was better it stayed that way, each of them leading their own lives, away from another. He only hoped she was alright.

~ ~ ~

Erin wrapped her blankets tightly around her, trying to chase of the chill by rubbing her hands violently together. Maybe it was just that autumn was coming, or that the old basement was small and cool … She needed to think about a way of keeping herself warm when winter came. The next time she headed out, she would look for what she could steal to bring a little warmth to her new hide-out.

After rubbing her palms together again, she pulled the oil lamp closer to her and picked the jeweled mirror from the floor. Carefully, she wrapped it out of the cloth. The black khol around her eyes left dark smudges on the wrap and on her cheeks. She rubbed fiercer.

Her fingers clenched around the mirror’s helve. She could feel its edges cutting into her skin.

Hastily, she put the mirror down, and wrapped the cloth around it. She needed to get rid of this thing soon. It only told lies. She couldn’t be that woman in the mirror, that … girl with the large, fearful eyes.

If it wouldn’t get her coin, she would’ve shattered that damned thing.

She dropped down on her mattress and stretched out. She had to stop thinking about it. It was the past, and she was free and alive. It was only nightmares and memories, and she had survived.

A faint noise made her stir up and turn her head. The darkness surrounding her was absolute – at some point she couldn’t quite remember the oil lamp must’ve went out. She reached out and searched for the match box, but instead, her fingers slid into something slick and warm.

Erin stilled, her sullied hand clenching into a fist.

She could hear steps in the darkness, and the next moment something groaned like metal shoved across stone and a pale stream of cold light fell onto the floor and brought muddy white to the dark walls. A sharp silhouette surrounded by the same pale white light stood across the room in the ajar door, fingers clasped around a walking cane and back hunched over.

Icy cold crept into her limps and had her recoil, her back hit the wall and her fingers dug into her white dress. The chill drained out every ounce of strength, crept into her veins and clung to her.

Her fingers left red imprints on the white dress. She kicked with her legs to scramble away from Northcrest, but the wall in her back stopped her. The screams in her head rose to a crescendo and she shook, doubling over and pressed her hands to her ears. It had to stop. Someone please make it stop. It was tearing her apart.

Hands gripped her and she was kicking around, but she could just as well have fought a wall. What little strength she had left was drained from her as she was pushed into a cold seat. The Baron’s face was everything she could see – it filled her entire field of vision, and wherever she looked, he was still staring at her.

There was nothing merciful or even human in his cold gaze.

A needle glinted in his fingers and she tried to back away, but she couldn’t move. She was screaming, but no sound escaped her lips, and her throat was hoarse and sore. There was no one to hear her. No one to stop the needle from piercing her skin and sending her spinning backwards into darkness …

Her screams were drowned out by louder ones, a million voices howling and whining in her head.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!”

She was slipping, the darkness a gaping maw underneath her, opened to swallow her. The abyss pulled at her dangling feet and the grip around her wrist was loosening.

Her heart hammered against her ripcage so fast, so hard she feared it might break them. She kicked desperate into the darkness, sought for something, anything for her feet to find get a hold on but there was nothing …

“Garrett, Garrett I’m slipping!”

He stared down at her. “I’m not going to save a monster.”

“Please …”

He let go. Suddenly, the grip around her wrist was gone. She screamed, tried to catch his hand, but he had already stepped out of reach … She was going to die. She was falling, the wind ripping at her dress and biting into her skin and her heart beat so loud it drowned everything out.

She was falling. She was dying. She …

Erin sat upright on her mattress. Her heart was racing inside her chest, and her hands shaking when she hastily felt along her arms and legs. No bruises, no breaks, no bones sticking out from torn flesh. She was whole.

Just a dream. She was alright.

The only thing she could feel underneath her fumbling and still trembling fingertips were the scars where Orion’s damned knife had cut her. Some of them ached underneath her touch, sore and raw.

She welcomed the pain. It was a real pain, not the phantom pain from her nightmare. It meant she was alive.

Her fingers still trembled slightly when she reached for the wrapped mirror and put it into her bag. Her knees shook a bit when she pushed herself to her feet, and her hands shook a little when she hastily dressed herself. She had to take a deep breath to quell the shiver that run down her spine before she found it in her to crawl over to the small window and out into the backyard.

A thick grey rat flew from her and hid underneath the rubble.

The overhanging roofs filled it with shadows. Erin stepped carefully across the fallen beams and squeezed herself out into the streets.

The sun hung deep above the horizon, piercing through the sky here and there, and painted the thick clouds sickly yellow. Erin squeezed her eyes against the light and quickened her steps.

By the time she’d reached the Crippled Burrick the sky had turned a dark grey and the Watch guards on the streets patrolled in groups of two. She avoided looking at the looming silhouette of the clock tower when she slipped into the backyard. At least she didn’t have to worry about running into Garrett at this time. He rarely headed out before it was fully dark.

At least that was what her memory told her.

She crouched down in front of one of the basement windows and peered into the room. There was the sharp silhouette of a black bird on a perch, and another, human one, bowed over the desk.

Erin slipped into the cellar.

The moment her feet met the floor, the bird on its perch burst into loud screeching.

Basso whirled around faster than she thought the fence was capable of and swung a paperknife at her.

“Taffing shit!” The letter opener dropped. “You people really need to learn how to fucking use doors.”

The bird on its perch screeched as if in agreement.

“Ah, shut up you stupid thing. Start at least screeching at the right kind of people, damnit.” Basso sighed. “What’re you here for? More jobs? You haven’t even finished the ones I gave you last time.”

Erin dropped the bag on his desk. “I got you the mirror and that other thing.”

Basso pulled the mirror from the bag and unwrapped it. Turning it around, he run a finger across the engravings and held it underneath the candle to peer at the polished blue stone.

He reached inside the bag and felt for the other piece of loot she had managed to steal last night. Erin bobbed on her heels and shot a glance over to the windows. He was taking too long. Was it just her or were the shadows outside looking thicker …?

“Keep hopping around like that and I’m on it all night long.” Basso held the gold ring before the light, turning it between his fingers. “He isn’t coming for a visit tonight, so relax.”

Erin took a step back and turned away from the window, stealing another glance over to Basso who finally laid the ring down on his desk. He raised a hand to tickle his bird at the head, but it jumped out of the way with an angry screech. After a last look at her, he walked over to the painting that hid his safe and run his fingers across his frame, placing himself so that she could not see where the hidden switches were.

Finally, the painting swung aside, revealing the hidden safe in the wall.

“What’s it we agreed on?”

“We didn’t.”

“Ah, right. You just threatened me not to say a damn word to Garrett and left.” Basso huffed and began counting coins into his palm. She could see them glint in the candlelight. “That should do.” He swiped them into a pouch and slammed the safe shut. “Here’s your share.”

Erin weighed the pouch in her hand. It felt heavier than she’d thought. But then, she hadn’t exactly named a prize and who know what whoever wanted these things was willing to pay. It was better than thinking about the alternative … A shiver run down a spine when she thought about the girl in the mirror.

Was that what he saw when he looked at her? A poor little child that needed to be pitied and cuddled? The mere thought brought the taste of bile to her throat. She didn’t need pity. She didn’t need any charity. She had finished these jobs, and she’d finish the next.

She had earned these coins because she was _good_ , because she was capable and skilled, not because she was a weak girl that brought tears to someone’s eyes. She wasn’t that haunted little thing in the mirror. She wasn’t the prisoner in the asylum, she wasn’t the stowaway that had fled to a foreign city, and neither was she the Blossom flying from her first bloodshed to the streets. She was stronger than that.

She had earned these coins. She had earned them.

Her hands were shaking around the pouch and she quickly put it away.

The weight at her side seamed to call her a liar.

It didn’t feel earned at all.

~ ~ ~

His hand grabbed for the ledge and with one, swift motion he pulled himself up the roof. Falling into a crouch, Garrett crawled across the tiles, head kept low and testing every step ahead with the tip of his soft padded feet to not kick any of them loose. Guards rarely looked up when they were unsuspecting, but strange noises from the rooftops might just as well change that. Up here was precious little cover aside from the chimney and it would be a long drop if he fell.

He was almost there.

Garrett peered down into the streets.

The Vance estate was smaller than he’d anticipated. Two stories high excluding the roof, it barely stood out from the buildings surrounding it. There was plenty of space around it, too much to dare a jump from one roof to the next. Two guards were stationed at the front door that looked out into the small plaza it shared with a couple of other estates. A pretentious statuette stood in the middle of it, but that was all there was for cover.

There were two balconies overlooking the plaza, and each of them was occupied by a guard, half-hidden in the shadows – but the blades and the glint of their helmets betrayed their presence. The front door and the balcony were out of question, and he couldn’t just sneak across the plaza, even in the cover of darkness. It was likely the other estates had guards as well. He needed to keep them in mind. Nothing could be more deadly than forgetting about threats left behind him …

Creeping along the roofs edge, he followed its outline until its very end. The jump onto the next was too risky, but peering down he spotted an archway that spanned the gap between the two buildings and looked broad enough. A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He lowered himself above the edge and dropped down, catching his fall with a few quick steps along the archway, and quickly balanced along it. The claw found its way into his hand almost by itself. With one swift motion, he through it. A pull went through the rope as it hooked itself into the roof above.

With his feet stemmed against the façade, he kicked himself higher and grabbed for the ledge, pulling himself up. Retracting the claws teeth, he loosened it from the tiles …

It was a remarkable work of craftsmanship, it’s design really ingenious. When he first had seen it he thought it too loud, too risky, but now he understood so much better why Erin had been so proud of it. He felt a sting of guilt in his chest. He shouldn’t have had it. Erin had left it behind, and maybe that meant that she wanted him to use it, but …

With a sign, he hooked the claw back into his belt. He couldn’t dwell on it now. There was still time for it when he got back to the clock tower.

First, he needed a better round-up of the building he was supposed to break in to. There had to be a way in that wasn’t as risky as the front door – which had been out of question from the beginning – and the balconies. Something less guarded to make a safe entrance.

He followed the rooftop and leaped over to the next, crouching down while he approached the gap between the Vance estate. Being so close, it was even more obvious that the jump was too risky. And from what he’d seen, the gap on the other side was even wider.

Peeking down, he couldn’t see any balconies that would allow him to enter the building from this side, and the windows were secured by bars that reached almost up mid-height. A pipe run along the side of the façade, but that wouldn’t help him get inside. At least there didn’t seem to be any guards in the small alley.

He pulled back from the edge. Maybe the backside of the building would be more inviting to a thief.

Garrett crept over to the end of the roof and unhooked the claw. Throwing it, it’s teeth caught at a barred window that peeked out from the roof. Garrett tugged at the rope and started pulling himself up and atop the building.

Slowly to not lose his footing, he padded over to the roofs edge and peered down. From here, he had an excellent look at the Vance estate’s rooftop and the broad street beyond the house.

There was little cover, and he could make out another guard overlooking the street from a balcony of the Vance’s estates backside.

Garrett followed the roof’s length to the point where it nearly met the next estate’s, and crossed over. He needed to gain a better look, one that allowed him to overlook the entire Vance’ estates backside. Lowering himself into a crouch, he padded to the edge and peered down.

There was a small door looking out into the street, with one guard stationed next to it. He stood leaned against the façade and seemed to stifle a yawn. Pipes lead along the wall, one of them tracing just below the windows, but the these were again secured with bars and didn’t allow an entrance. Street lights filled the backstreets with their pale light, offering little shadow.

_Little paranoid, Vance, are we?_

He might have been able to utilize the pipes if he only had been able to cross over to the Vance’ rooftop, but even at the narrowest point the gap between the rooftops was too wide for a jump.

A second guard came from the broad allow on the estate’s other side and strolled over to his companion guarding the back entrance. The two seemed to exchange some words before the second guard turned heel and vanished again in the side-street.

So there was at least one patrol guarding the estate as well. Good to know.

Maybe the side alley offered a way into the estate. There was always a way in. Garrett had yet to come across a house that was impossible to burgle. The Vance estate was well secured, just as Lady Emmeline had promised, but then … even the Baron’s Mansion hadn’t been unpickable.

He dropped down onto a broad sill coming from the balcony overlooking the backstreet and balanced across an archway. Throwing the claw, he climbed up the next roof, and treaded over to the edge. Garrett fell into a crouch and peeked down, grabbing the roof and leaning over.

The guards back disappeared around the corner. Some lit windows stared into the side-street – he could see silhouettes moving beyond them, and muffled voices from inside and below. Another balcony seamed the Vance’ estate’s façade, overlooking the side-street. On it, a dark silhouette leaned against the banister, the lit window reflecting in its helmet. Another guard.

Garrett stepped back from the edge.

He couldn’t see a way in. Lady Emmeline hadn’t lied about the security of Vance estate.

The backdoor would’ve been a good point, if not for the guard stationed there and the other one overlooking the street from the balcony, and the third one patrolling the area. He could distract the one at the door, but even if, he risked being spotted by one of the others.

He couldn’t douse street lights with a water arrow.

There had to be another way. Just because he couldn’t see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He wasn’t going to give up that easily.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 6

A pair of eyes followed her from what looked like a pile of rags when she squeezed through the gap between the two houses into the backyard.

Erin fought the urge to turn around and hiss at the beggar to go away and stop looking at her. It felt like he was standing right behind her, breathing into her neck. What did he want here anyway? It was not like there were any people he could beg for coin here. Besides herself, and she wasn’t planning on sharing with him …

Erin slipped through the opening and stepped away, across the fallen beam that cluttered the backyard. She could barely make out the rubble in the dark. What little she could see of the sky through the gaps between the overhanging rooftops was shrouded in heavy clouds.

She had to make this quick if she wanted to arrive at that house before she got caught by the rain and drenched to the bone. Why hadn’t she brought this stuff with her when she first went out?

Erin slipped behind the crates and crouched to her knees, slipping through the window into her cellar.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to even deeper black inside the small basement, and she could make out the silhouette of her mattress and the crates with the washbowl on it.

She ignored the oil lamp – she wouldn’t stay long enough.

Erin kneeled down and lifted the mattress just far enough to shove the purse with the coin under it. Later, she would need to look for a better place to stash her money, but it would do for now. No one knew that she lived her. Even that beggar outside had just see her enter the courtyard, not the cellar.

The prybar and the grappling hook were behind the crates where she left them, and she secured them both to her belt. That she had left them behind ... She had been so desperate to leave her hide-out after that nightmare that she hadn’t stopped to prepare. It was pathetic and ridiculous, and send creeping heat across her face and neck.

Maybe Basso had noticed how ill-prepared she’d been and thus payed her more than the stuff she’d brought him was worth. The mere thought of it made her hands shake with anger. She nearly dropped the box of dried meat.

Snarling at it, she shoved it into her pocket. She could eat on the way.

Erin snatched the flask from the crate next to her mattress and downed a few swigs of water before heading to the small window and slipping outside.

Halfway across the backyard, she stopped, a foot resting atop the fallen crossbeam. Just a few steps ahead a pile of rags was dropped on the floor, with what looked like a patch of white puffy fur atop of it. Her fingers reached for the knife fastened to her thigh. She looked around … She’d thought that backyard was deserted, just like the buildings around. Who had left that here?

“Ah, Erin ...” The pile of rags _moved_. “I fear you will not find what you’re looking for.” A pair of milky eyes stared at her from the rags, and through her.

It wasn’t a pile of rags at all. A human. An old woman with a face composed entirely out of wrinkles.

Erin tensed. “What do you want from me?”

It was impossible that a blind old woman had managed to follow her here. Unless this wasn’t just a blind old woman. She’d heard rumors. She knew that Basso and Garrett and a couple of others had had dealers with this enigmatic figure, and that almost every beggar in the City was loyal to her.

“I want to see balance uphold in the City.” The woman sighed. “A year long, it had shifted while you suffered.”

Erin tried to ignore the shiver that crept down her spine. “That’s the past.”

“It is, or not? There are things you cannot run and hide from, child. The City has regained its balance, but you have lost yours.”

“What’re you talking about? I’m fine!”

“You cannot release the echo unless you accept how it has changed you, child. There might come the time where you will have to face what frightens you.”

Erin stepped back and turned around. She didn’t like how that woman’s blind stare seemed to pierce right through her, as though she saw more instead of nothing. That unseeing stare seemed to follow her across the backyard …

Erin spun around on her heel to tell her to leave and stop staring at, but the ragged figure of the Queen of Beggars was gone, the yard empty. Not even foot prints in the dust or a swift movement from the corner of her eyes betrayed that she ever had been here. Where had the old woman gone? Had she ever been here in the first place?

The sharp sting of unrelenting cold that bit her bones seemed to deepen.

It clung to her still when she squeezed herself through the gap and out into the streets.

~ ~ ~

Garrett dropped down onto the balcony and withdrew into the deeper shadows underneath the overhanging roof, flattening himself against the wall. He raised a hand to try and rub away the headache that was starting grow behind his brow.

He hadn’t even really started with this job and it was already getting more complicated by the second. After creeping across rooftops he knew the number of guards and their patrol routes, those guarding the Vance estate itself as well as the ones he’d discovered in the other mansions. They were not as numerous, but would still proof a problem.

What he still didn’t knew was how to get _inside_ the estate.

With a sign, he reached inside his pockets and pulled out a sheet of paper. With one hand, he brushed over the sheet to flatten it, stepping a bit closer to the light that fell through the glass door onto the balcony.

The only way inside the mansion was from above … Or so it had seemed.

Garrett pursed his lips, his finger tracing the lines that sketched the basement level of the building.

Well, it _was_ a way in, although he needed to make sure he picked the right entrance and not got lost in the maze – or went for an involuntary swim. And he needed yet another map before he could start.

The sky was still dark, though shrouded with thick clouds that promised rain. Still, he should have the time to acquire what he needed and head back to the clock tower. That map shouldn’t be too hard to find – he couldn’t think of it being especially rare in this city.

Garrett folded the map and put it back into his pocket.

Still flattened against the wall, he inched side-wards until he could risk a glance inside through the balcony door. Someone sat at a desk, back turned to him, but Garrett couldn’t spot anyone else. Lowering himself into a crouch, he treaded past the window and over to the banister. A moment later he’d dropped on the broad sill beneath.

He knew just the place to look for what he needed.

 

“How’s your mother?” The Watch guard below shifted from one feet to the other, the sword at his side rustling inside its sheath.

“Fine. Well, she isn’t growing that eye back, but she’s fine. Even started yelling at me again. Just her old self.” The younger Watchmen shrugged. “Never thought I’d be happy to see that one day.”

“Friggin’ Gloom, glad that shit’s finally over.” The older Watch guard cast a glance about his shoulder.

Garrett shrank deeper into the shadows. He should be safe, but he wasn’t willing to trust in luck alone and the building was still across the street, its backside pressed against the high wall that separated Dayport from Stonemarket. The whole building looked like it was trying to make itself invisible.

“Should better get back on patrol, before Captain shows up and rips me a new one”, the older Watchmen mumbled.

The younger one nodded in agreement.

Garrett waited until both Watch guards had left before he dropped down to street level and slipped into the side-alley beside the building. After checking one last time for any more guards, he inserted the pry bar into the small slit below the window and began working it open.

With one hand already slipped inside and holding the window shutter up, he peeked inside the room. Empty. The main lights were turned off, and just the red glow of a maintenance lamp cast its glow across the floor and walls. A pair of cabinets seamed the walls, but other than that, he couldn’t make out any noticeable furniture.

Without further ado, Garrett slipped inside, his soft-padded shows barely making any sound on the cold, grey floor.

The bore little of interest, so he padded over to the single door and glanced through the keyhole. The room behind lay just as deserted as this one, at least from what he could gather, and not a single sound was heart from the other side. Pulling down the handle, he found the door unlocked and slid into the next room.

Another red maintenance lamp lit the room, but just as the one he’d come through, the main lights were turned off.

Another pair of cabinets seamed the walls, and the floor was just as cold and grey, but unlike the former room, this one bore a simple broad desk with a multitude of drawers and an unlit oil lamp on it.

Garrett stopped shortly to pause at the other door leading away from the room to steal a glance through the keyhole and make sure he wouldn’t be interrupted before he treaded over to the desk.

 _As I know the wealthy, they are glad not to be reminded of how similar they are to the poor._ His fingers slid across the large sheet of paper on the desk and under it, quickly folding it together. _Glad to be of service._ He stored the map in his pocket, with the other.

He slipped back into the side-room and out of the window. A drop of water fell upon his left hand when he closed the shutter, the air smelled wet.

Garrett raised a hand to tug his hood deeper into his face.

So much for arriving at the clock tower dry.

~ ~ ~

A brick gave way under her foot and forced her to leap forward and struggle for balance. It broke on the cobbles, three stories under her.

Erin balled her fists and looked away, continuing on her way across the rooftop. A thick raindrop splashed on her toetips, following by another that tickled along her cheek and down her neck.

She lowered her head and hurried, half-skidding down the roof and jumped, dropping down onto a wooden crossbeam that crossed the streets below from one side to the other. With a few quick steps, she’d reached the other side, and grabbed the bannister, vaulting over it.

Almost there.

She crouched down and hurried over to the balcony door, quickly inserting her lock picks. The lock was a simple one, three pins, and almost opened on its own. This would be easy. Maybe she shouldn’t have picked the easy jobs and instead asked for something more challenging and dangerous.

Erin pushed the door open and slipped inside. A thick carpet laid out on the floor muffled her footsteps. The room was empty. A pair of cupboards and a small table amidst the room made seamed by a pair of chairs made up the only furniture.

Loud snoring reached her ear through the walls to her right when she approached the first of the two cupboards and pulled open the drawer. A set of white-and-blue cloths lay folded inside, and she closed it shut. Not what she was looking for. Erin rose her feet and opened the doors of the cupboard. Inside were a couple of simple plates and some wine-glasses, nothing special or even worth stealing.

She shrugged and headed over to the next, daring a look inside. The casket wasn’t there, but a nice silver cup that would earn her some extra coin. It even had some pretty engravings along its rim. Erin led it slip inside her bag and closed the cabinet again, falling to her knees, and pulled the drawer open. Just a similar set of blue-white cloths.

Erin used the carpet to reach the door quickly and quietly. A quick peek through the keyhole showed a room lit by a candlestick standing on a desk across the door. She pushed it open.

A lout squeak had her freeze on the doorstep and release the handle. Seconds passed by and nothing happened. The snoring didn’t stop for even a moment, the resident completely oblivious to an open door that should been closed.

Erin smiled to herself and slipped inside, taking care to leave the door opened. She could close it when she left. Right now it was better to not risk making any more noise.

The candle on the desk filled the room with warm light, lining the snoring man’s silhouette against the pillows, and revealing a dresser next to the bed, as well as a large cabinet on the far end of the room.

The sleeper didn’t move when Erin crept over to crouch down beside him and search the drawers, pulling them out one by one. He simply snored into her ear, face half buried in his pillows and one bulky leg dangling over the bed’s edge. Erin picked a silvery brooch from the lowest drawer and pocketed it. Still no sign of the casket, but that brooch was probably worth a fair amount of coin.

She peered over to the sleeping man and inched back, careful not to touch his leg, and turned around to head to the cabinet. A floorboard squeaked underneath her feet and she stilled, peeking across her shoulder. The man let out a loud snoring breath of air, rolling dully to the other side.

Erin darted over to the cabinet and pulled it open. It was filled with clothes, sloppily folded together, with the faint smell of cheap soap clinging to them.

She began to shove the clothes aside, feeling inside them for something that wasn’t made of fabric. Maybe the casket was hidden underneath the pile of jackets, trousers and shirts. With the mess inside the cabinet, the sleeper probably wouldn’t even realize someone had been here before it was too late.

Finally, her fingers slid across something cool and engraved. Shoving the clothes aside she could see the polished surface of a black casket, roughly the length of her hand. It was heavier when she thought it would be when she pulled it out and set it atop the pile of barely folded clothes.

It didn’t look that remarkable. The casket probably was barely worth anything at all … The clasp was easily opened, obviously the sleeping man had thought hiding it among his clothes was enough protection. Better for her. It spared her from looking for another way to open it.

She clapped the lid back and looked at a beautiful set of silverware, polished and looking almost new, sorted and laid out next to another, decorated with intrinsic engravings. It looked complete, and as though it had never been used before …

Something grabbed her upper arm like a jaw vice and whirled her around.

“Hey! What’re doing here?”

“Don’t touch me!”

Her heart was thundering. It hammered so hart, so fast against her ribcage that it hurt. Her head was spinning, and a pair of angry eyes stared down at her.

His hand was clasped around her arm. It hurt. Her heart was racing. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face, of the way his eyes narrowed. She fumbled behind, her fingers slid across something cold and slender.

She lunged forward.

The next moment, she lay on the floor, dropped across the massive man and stared at the bloody gash, the red fountain that bubbled off his throat and sullied her hands. Cold sweat drippled down her brow and bit her eyes.

The cold was back, unrelenting and even fiercer than before, biting her flesh and chilling her to the bone. She shivered violently. It took her ages to scramble back from the body.

She kicked herself up and whirled around.

There was no more anger in the man’s eyes, just confusion and shock, and it drove her to the window. Her hands left bloody fingerprints all across the sill and on her prybar, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that the drop charred her bones and almost twisted her ankle.

She broke into a run.

Rain fell in heavy drops from the clouded sky, and within minutes, she was drenched. She didn’t care.

A pair of too familiar eyes were staring down at her as she slipped. “I’m not going to safe a monster.” She didn’t find the strength in her to disagree.

She couldn’t head back to her hide-out. There were only nightmares and memories that awaited her there. And she couldn’t head back to Basso. She had visited him tonight already and she didn’t even have the cutlery. It was still inside the apartment, together with the man she’d killed. The mere thought of turning back made her stomach twist and coil.

It had all gotten out of control. Her whole life felt as though it was slipping through her fingers, no matter how desperately she tried to grasp it.

There was only one place she could go to now.

~ ~ ~

He circled the last of his traps and knelt down to inspect it. The mechanism was still sharp, the tripwire safely in place to stop any unwelcome visitors from entering his hide-out.

Garrett rose to his feet and reached for the crossbeams above him to pull himself up. After years of living inside the clock tower and thousands of time he’d made the climb, his hands and feet found their way up almost on their own. He scaled the beams along the façade, pressed against the wall and passed the giant clock works until he could grip the rail and vault himself over.

Garrett reached up to pull the wet hood off his head … and froze, his fingers slipped under the leather and the other twitching for his compound bow.

Wet footprints trailed across the floor, barely visible in the candlelight that illuminated his collection and down the stairs. It was a single pair, and it seemed to lead straight to the place where he slept, but not back from it.

Whoever it was, they were probably still here.

He pulled a choke arrow from his quiver and the bow from his back, and fell into a crouch, fingers curled around the bowstring. A quick glance he cast over to his collection, but the footprints passed by them without stopping. Choke arrow at the ready he followed the trail, around his storage chest and over to his bed …

With one swift motion, he hooked the bow and stuffed the arrow back, and rose from his crouch.

She reminded him much more of the prisoner than the assassin, even though her clothes were once again black and her blue eyes darkened with khol. She stared at her hands, balled to fists in her lap, and didn’t look up when he stepped out of the shadows.

“Erin …”   

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 7

„Garrett.“

Her voice was little more than a whisper; her lips almost didn’t move at all. In her lap, her hands kneaded tighter together. Dark spots dotted them, a stark contrast to her pale skin. They were blurred on the etches, half-washed away from the rain that had left his blankets soaked where she sat.

He didn’t know what to say, or to do. Time and again he’d wished to see her again and explain himself, maybe ask for forgiveness or assure her that he cared, but now that she was here, he couldn’t find the words.

Erin hadn’t moved. Her eyes flitted across his face – large eyes with dark circles under them, as though she hadn’t had enough sleep in a long while - as if searching for something, and then returned to stare at the floor.

“I thought you’d never show up.”

“I live here.” He was relieved that it was her who broke the silence.

Erin looked up, only for a moment, but her eyes seemed to fixate something left of his shoulder, avoiding him. “Basso said you’re out on a job.”

“Preparing for it. I just came back.”

She didn’t look good. Paler when he remembered, just as pale as she’d been when she was still held prisonor by Orion. But even her lips had lost color. She looked frail, her skin almost translucent. And he had no illusion as for what the dark stains on her hands were.

“What do you want, Erin?”

“I was on a job. A resident caught me.” She still didn’t look at him.

“You killed him.” Of course she had. She looked bad, but not hurt. There were no visible wounds, no slashes in her clothes, no cuts at her hands. “I’m not cleaning up after you again.”

“I didn’t want to kill him, Garrett!” It was the first time she rose her voice. “One moment, I’m checking that casket and the next, he’s behind me and touches me. It wasn’t supposed to happen! It should’ve been an easy job, get in, get out, get paid. That … I didn’t want that!”

She was staring at him now, lips pressed into a thin white line and eyes a silent plead. He couldn’t tell whether the shimmering line left of her nose was from the rain, or a tear track. It made him flinch.

She was obviously desperate and confused and here he was, accusing her. He wished he hadn’t said anything. This wasn’t the time, and she was in no state for it.

“Can I stay? It’s too dangerous to climb down in the rain.”

“You could’ve used the stairs.”

Erin’s smile was weak, a shadow of her usual mischievous one. “And risk being hurt by one of your traps? I’ve not been here for years, Garrett.”

Garrett sighed. “Fine. But I’m not exactly prepared for guests.”

She took a deep shuddering breath. Her smile widened for a brief moment, then vanished as her eyes returned to her lap, and her hands.

The moments seemed to stretch while she sat there, bloodied hands balled to fists. The silence between them felt heavy, thick enough to cut it with a knife. Garrett didn’t know what else to say. A lump in his throat prevented him from saying anything further.

Maybe it had been naïve and stupid of him to believe she’d be fine, that it was best to stay out of her life and away from her. He should’ve searched more thoroughly. What she had lived through was enough to break men much older and more experienced than her.

Erin lifted her chin and took a deep breath, her shoulders becoming more square.

“I need some space. I … should wash this off.” She rose her hands; some of the bloodstains looked already pretty dry. How long exactly had she been here, waiting for him?

“Sure.” He nodded over to the washbasin next to his bed. “Fresh clothes should be in the chest.”

A weak smile quirked her lips when he turned around and headed back to the stairs. The sound of splashing water could be heard when he climbed the steps, along with something being dropped to the floor.

Garrett headed to his desk and pulled his pocket open, producing the folded map from it. It still was dry – obviously the prepared leather of the pouch had been worth its coin. He unfolded it and opened it up on the tabletop.

The cloth of his mask stuck to his chin and neck, and he pulled it off and threw it across the backrest. The last thing he needed was catching a cold. As soon as Erin was finished, he needed to change himself and dry his drenched attire.

He threw some more wood into the fire-basket and lit a match, firing it, before he sat down and began laying out the Vance’ estate plan next to the sewer maps.

With the Vance’ estate map laid out before him, he began marking the positions of the guards he’d discovered and their routes. Even if he didn’t plan on entering via the surrounding rooftops or any of the doors and windows, it was quite possible that his escape route would lead him through any of those.

With a bit of inked he scribbled the pipes along the side of the building. Useless to get inside, but he wouldn’t rule them out completely. He’d rather avoid leaving the estate the same way he’d entered it …

Looking at the sewer map, he wasn’t surprised to find they were quite a maze. It was best he took the map with him. The last thing he needed was getting lost in the City’s smelly bowels.

_Let’s just hope I don’t drown in them either … Or stink just as bad after._

“What are you doing?”

Garrett startled for a moment, tensed in his chair, before realization hit him.

“Planning.”

She _could_ be rather silent if she wanted. He hadn’t noticed her. And he had always been quite sure that he was hard to be snuck up to.

“That mysterious job you were preparing for?”

Garrett could almost feel her breath at his shoulder as she leaned closer to steal a peek at the maps laid out on his desk.

“Yes.” Without a second thought, he moved the chair to allow her a better look. Strange how these things never changed … He’d done exactly the same during the time they’d worked together, during the time he taught her the art of thievery.

“The sewers. Why not take one of the windows? It’s less smelly, or wet.”

“They’re barred, and there are guards. Many of them.”

He could feel she was ready to argue, could hear the intake of air behind him. Of course she’d have different ideas. Would probably make a point of killing some of the guards. Eliminate the danger before it could become one.

“When will you leave?”

He could tell this wasn’t what she had originally wanted to say.

“Next night, or the night after.”

She didn’t answer. He could hear the soft shuffle of cloth when she shifted behind him, a slow and slightly shivering exhale. But no word. She didn’t interrupt him again, and only her breaths told him she was still there, and watching.

~ ~ ~

By evening, the rain had softened to a drizzle.

A draft carried damp air through the window and forced Erin to wrap her cloak tighter around her form. She threw more dry wood into the fire-basket, hoping to feed the flames and stop the fire from dying.

She desperately needed some warmth to chase the chill of her bones. Scrubbing her hands clean and changing her clothes had done nothing to soften the cold that clung to her.

At least the nightmares hadn’t returned today, at least not as far she remembered. She’d woken up, stirred awake by the rattling clockwork, and a lingering unease in the pit of her stomach, but at least not screaming and drenched in her own sweat. Maybe that meant progress.

Maybe it meant that this was only temporarily, that she would regain control over her life.

She flipped through the maps still laid out on the desk, traced with a finger the spots where fresh ink had marked the position of guards, of patrols. A part of her was almost desperate to come with him. A part of her was almost tempted to just _follow_ him, whether he agreed or not.

Another part of her wanted to leave, to get as far away as possible. That part shivered and shriveled at the prospect of all the things that hang unspoken in the air.

She wasn’t sure if she could handle it. The blame. The disappointment. She didn’t want to remember, to be remembered of what had happened, of what she’d done. It was bad enough it haunted her dreams.

She stepped back from the desk, just in time to see Garrett ascending the stairs.

He was already fully dressed, but the scarf hung loose around his neck and the hood was flapped back, revealing black hair cropped even a bit shorter than hers.

“Ready to head out?” She waved over to the maps. Her voice sounded a bit thinner than she’d liked. Too weak, too unconvincing.

“Eager to see me leave?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving before you.”

He stepped past her, shoving the maps together before folding them and stashing them inside a pouch at his belt. Erin followed his every grip.

Truth be told, she didn’t know where to go once she’d left. Do these last few jobs for Basso, trying to work off the disaster of the last night from her mind? Return to her tight, dark cellar? Take her bloodstained clothes to a laundry?

If she wanted one thing, it was the last thing she was going to get. She wasn’t stupid enough to ask. There could only be one answer, and she already knew what it was. Why should he take her with him on this job? Her own recklessness and arrogance had almost killed them both!

This was all her fault. Everything that had happened. She’d tried to blame him for it the entire last year, had wanted to hate him just as much as she wanted him to find and safe her. She was through with that. There was only one person to blame for that disaster, and that was her. She’d brought it all to herself.

“Hungry?” He reached her a box with dried meat.

Erin hesitated for a moment before she took a strip and ripped a chunk of it with her teeth. The stuff had the consistence of leather and it almost tasted like it too, but at least it was food. She’d starved often enough not to be picky.

She swallowed the next piece and took a deep breath. Better now than never. Before she changed her mind, and lost the courage.

“Garrett, I just … the reason I came here. I’m glad you stopped me.”

“That’s an apology?”

Erin shrugged. She guessed it was. When she wielded that power it had felt as though she was invincible, but it came with so much pain that she’d forgotten where it ended and she began. All the whispers and the screams in her head, the sick and the dying … The feeling of being betrayed and abandoned by the one person she trusted the most. She’d called for him in her pain and confusion, and without a response until she thought it would just crush her.

But what the Primal had given her wasn’t control.

“Can you forgive me?”

“I already have.”

Erin shoved the last piece of dried meat into her mouth, glad that chewing saved her from giving an answer. She’d never asked forgiveness for anything, and this … She didn’t know if she liked how it felt. Hate or resentment was easier to handle than this.

She swallowed the last piece of meat, and wiped her fingers clean at the fabric of her lent trousers.

“I should leave.” His forgiveness made it somehow harder to stay.

It didn’t feel deserved. Just like the shelter he’d given her for the night didn’t. Just like the coins Basso had given her hadn’t felt deserved.

“Take care of yourself.” He didn’t look at her, and his voice was quiet enough that she almost thought that she’d imagined it.

Something inside her made a ridiculous little jump, and for a very brief moment, she almost felt warm again.

Almost warm enough to forget the sharp sting it send through her stomach’s pit.

 

 


	9. Chapter 8

A quick glance about his shoulder assured Garrett that he was alone in the back-alley. He could hear steps further down the street, but as long as he didn’t lose time, he should be already underground by the time the patrol was anywhere near discovering him.

The sewer entrance he’d picked lay hidden in a small, unassuming building just a few steps ahead. When he crouched down to peek through the keyhole, he was relieved to find it completely empty. The workers keeping an eye on the sewers probably had already gone home for tonight. Even better for him.

His lock picks found their way into his fingers and inside the lock without a second thought. It didn’t take him long to break it open – the door was only secured by a simple three-pin lock mechanism.

With a last look behind him, Garrett opened the door and slipped inside. The door fell shut behind him, closing off the lanterns down the street. A small flickering electric light was everything that lit the small room, covering floors and wall in a sickly white shine.

_Fitting._

Garrett reached for his mask and pulled it up and over his nose.

The hatch that led down to the sewers was just a few steps ahead on the far side of the room. It wasn’t locked, and when he pried it open, dump darkness stared back at him from a seemingly bottomless hole. At least there was a ladder leading down it.

Garrett crouched down and grabbed for it, testing the lower rungs with one foot before he began descending down the ladder. Holding onto it, he reached up to pull the hatch shut above his head.

A moment later, darkness swallowed him as the flickering light above was shut out. But it was better to climb down in darkness than leave any trace of his presence.

After a few more steps down the rungs, the stench of stale water, piss and other charming substances he couldn’t name reached his nose. Even the cloth covering his face couldn’t block it out completely. How the sewer workers came to stand this smell every day was beyond him.

At last, when he tested the rungs below, he found solid ground underneath his feet instead of more ladder.

Looking around, he could make out the end of the tunnel, a patch of lighter grey among all the blackness surrounding him.

The smell grew worse with every step towards the main canal, but at least the darkness gave way to a faint glow. Water reflected against the walls ahead, licked sluggishly against the walkways.

Garrett stopped in the crossway and cast glances to both sides. It was night, but that didn’t mean he was the only human down here at this hour. He wasn’t willing to risk being discovered before he had even reached his destination.

But the sewer tunnels lay forlorn and empty, with the only sound the gurgle of the sewage below his feet.

He couldn’t make out the ground of the canal. It could reach to his waist or below his head.

_Anyway, I’m not planning to find out. The smell would give me away miles ahead. If I not just drown in it._

If he remembered correctly, the tunnel that would lead him to the Vance estate was the one to his left. After checking one last time, he slipped onto the walkway and followed it, keeping as close to the wall and as far away from the water as possible.

At least the walkway was dry, if not clean. He preferred not to think about the things that would cling to his soles inevitably. Hopefully, the smell was just from the sewage and wouldn’t follow him into the estate when he left the sewers. A wrong smell could give him away just as easily as a noise or a wrong step at the wrong time.

After some steps along the walkway, the tunnel curved to the right. A narrow bridge spanned the stinking sewage below from one side to the other. There was no handrail, just the grey, dirty stone.

Garrett risked a glance around the corner, but all he could see was the sewer tunnel vanishing steps ahead into darkness and sluggishly swapping wastewater between the walkways on either side.

He stepped onto the bridge and with a few, quick steps, crossed the canal. According to the map, he had to follow the tunnel on this side until the second next opening.

Ahead of him, he could see the first side-tunnel branching off, a pitch-black hole leading further into the sewer maze. He stopped for a moment to cast a glance into the corridor and check for any unwelcome surprises, but cool air and darkness were the only thing looking back at him.

Quickening his steps, he crossed the opening. With one hand, he adjusted the scarf around his nose, but it helped very little to lessen the smell. Poor or rich, what came out of someone’s bottom end always smelled the same. Class differences always vanished in the sewers.

After a few more steps, a second side-tunnel opened up in the wall beside him. Garrett slowed down his steps and peered into the dark hole before entering it, immediately keeping towards its walls. The faint glow that had illuminated the main sewer tunnel behind him vanished after a few more steps and left him to find his way in darkness.

Finally, he stepped out into another tunnel, very much like the one he’d just left, with sewage flowing in the middle of two dirty walkways and illuminated with a similar faint glow. To his left, he spotted another bridge and quickly passed it, keeping an eye out for the tunnels on either side.

The side-tunnel he was looking for was just ahead, and he quickly slipped inside with a last glance about his shoulder.

A thin rivelut of smelling sewage drippled along the sewer, following the length of a gully carved into the floor. Garrett took to the other side, careful not to step into the disgusting sludge.

The tunnel lead upwards, and after some steps more, Garrett spotted a glowing oil-lamp on the wall next to him.

Momentarily, he slowed down his steps and fell into a crouch. But the tunnel ahead was empty, with only his own shadow dancing across the walls and the dripple of wastewater running down towards the main tunnel.

Still crouched down, Garrett snuck past the lantern, and back into the shadows.

The oil-light was almost again swallowed by darkness when he spotted the next one – and, just behind it, a huge grating blocking the way. The only way through was a small gate, undoubtedly locked … and guarded.

_Looks like I’m being close. Why am I not surprised to see one of these things here?_

Above the gate, a crude cuboid box overlooked the tunnel. The lens at its front reflected the light from the oil-lamp and send a faint spot dancing across the walls as it scanned its surroundings. He could see the glow of fire on its far end, heard the hissing and rattling of a dozen tiny gears and belts.

_You really are paranoid, Vance, are you?_

If he wanted to unlock the gate, he had to be quick and time his approach correctly. He knew this kind of mechanism. The bank in Stonemarket had had several of these installed. They were more accurate than guards, but also a lot more predictable.

Sticking to the shadows as best he could, he approached the gate, and readied his lock picks. The camera seemed stared at the area in front of the door, seemed to linger at him for a moment before looking away. Garrett darted forward as soon as he was out of the mechanical eye’s line of sight and inserted his lock picks.

He concentrated on the lock, on what he had to do … The world around him seemed to slow as his entire focus seemed to set on the mechanism. He could hear the hissing and rattle of the camera behind him, could almost _see_ inside the inside of the lock and where exactly the pins were.

A soft click pulled him out of his trance, and he pushed the door open without looking back, slipping through the opening just as the camera turned back to stare at the spot he had just occupied. Garrett crouched down in the shadows behind and waited until the mechanical eye looked away again before he closed the gate.

A pair of steps just ahead of him lead to a door. When he looked around, he couldn’t see any trace of guards or residents, but spotted darker dots in the doorframe, two pairs on either side. Traps, most likely.

Vance had probably turned the doorway into a pressure plate. He either needed to find a way to turn these off or tread _very_ carefully if he didn’t want to risk getting struck with an arrow.

Seeing how he didn’t yet know on which way to leave once he was done, it was better to deactivate the traps if he could …

Garrett ascended the stairs and followed the wall, keeping away from the door and one eye turned to the ground to look for any more pressure plates. There were none. As were any boxes or suspicious hidden buttons that could’ve deactivated the traps.

_Of course. You wouldn’t make it this easy, would you?_

With a sign, he returned to the door. That left him with treading lightly, and keeping an eye on the ground for caution. At least Lady Emmeline hadn’t exaggerated. The mansion really was well-protected, even here, down at its perhaps weakest spot.

Garrett treaded as close to the doorstep as possible and leaned forward, resting his palms against the door to try and get a glance through the keyhole. What lay behind appeared to be a dark stone corridor, lit by golden light, but he couldn’t make out its source. At least it appeared empty.

Ready to jump back, he tested the handle. Locked. He wasn’t surprised. Someone who installed mechanical eyes in the sewers and pressure plates on the doorstep wouldn’t leave a door unlocked.

That meant he had to unlock the door, and be extremely careful while doing so to not accidently trigger the trap.

He was dangerously aware of the pressure plate less than an inch away from his toes when he inserted his lock picks. Carefully, balancing on his toe tips, he tested the mechanism. Four pins. If not for the trap in front of him, he’d be confident about this.

Just a bit closer and he’d be glad if he wasn’t impaled immediately.

Finally, the last pin slid back and he heard the soft click inside as the lock opened. Inching away from the pressure plate, Garrett hid his lock picks away and pushed down the handle with the tips of his fingers. The door swung open with a creaking sound that made him step out of the doors way, but no one appeared in the dark corridor to investigate.

One eye kept on the ground, he stepped across the pressure plate with a wide stride before closing the door deftly behind him.

_Nice try, Vance, but I’m ahead of you._

Just right from him on the wall he spotted a panel. That had to be what kept the trap sharp. He opened it carefully and one snip later, the wire was severed. If he needed to escape the same way he’d come in, the pressure plate wouldn’t be a hindrance any longer.

Garrett smiled to himself.

The corridor to his left ended just after a few steps in a dead end, but looking the other way, he could spot it arching away into another hallway, and a scorching torch lighting the floor and cold stone walls. According to the plans he’d been given, that was the way he needed to go.

He followed the corridor along the wall to keep out of the torch’s light as best as possible until he could cast a glance around the corner. There was no one to be seen, not a noise to be heard. A triplet of doors lay ahead him, one to each side of the hallway and one at its very end. A second torch right from the door ahead of him cast flickering light and shadows dancing across the cold, grey walls.

Drawing closer to the first door, the one to his right, he dared a look through the keyhole. Shrouded in darkness, he could only barely make out the silhouettes of what might be boxes and crates piled up and stashed together. This was most likely not what he was looking for, but he supposed it didn’t hurt to check.

The blueprints where supposed to be in a workshop somewhere in the basement. Although, judging from the plans, there was no direct way connecting the workshop with the rest of the cellar, there was a slight chance there might something missing.

The door was only closed, but not locked, and Garrett slipped inside. With one hand brushing the wall, he strode along it, inspecting every inch for a hidden switch, a secret trapdoor, anything that might be useful. He found nothing. The ceiling was equally bland.

There was nothing here. Not even valuables worth taking. The room was as unremarkable as it had appeared at first glance.

Garrett slipped back into the corridor and treaded over to the next room, peering through the keyhole first before he pulled it open and slipped inside. This one’s walls were lined with half-empty shelves, bearing a variety of mostly unremarkable clutter not worth a second look. Another storage room, it seemed.

He closed the door silently.

That left him only with the door at the end of the corridor.

Garrett fell into a crouch, approaching the door slowly. He could see a fine seam of light seeping from underneath it. A look through the keyhole revealed shelves filled to the brim with bottles in a variety of shapes and sizes, all lit by what he assumed was an electric lamp. But he couldn’t see anyone inside, and not a noise from the other side of the door.

He tested the handle and wasn’t surprised to find the door locked.

His lock picks found their way into the door and he quickly worked the lock open. It wasn’t a very difficult task – just three pins later he’d opened the door and slipped inside the wine cellar, closing it behind him.

_Someone’s fond of wine here._

The cellar was larger than the look through the keyhole had let on, and every shelf was filled with bottles. When treaded closer, he could see that just some stray dust grains covered the glass, and the etiquettes were all legible. Someone took care of this cellar and the wine regularly.

Garrett couldn’t say he knew much of wine – he avoided alcoholic beverages to his best ability – but he could spot could quality when he saw it, and some of those brands and vintages made what lay bottled here worth more than their weight in coin.

What filled this cellar was probably worth enough to keep a whole family fed for the rest of their life.

_Good to know you have your priorities, Vance._

He wished he could take some of those bottles, but they were heavy, and glass. Too risky carrying them around. They could break or clash in the most inopportune moments to give him away. If he happened to use the cellar for his escape, he could still think about taking them.

Garrett pulled away from the shelves and approached the stairs. He kept his head low, all too aware of the electric light that illuminated the cellar and would give him away the moment someone decided to look after the wine. The light switch was half-way up the stairs, embedded in the wall. Still out of reach.

He tested the steps with his toe tips before taking them, careful not to make a noise on the stairs on his way up. Looking left and right, he could see the bannister that separated the stairs from the room above, and more light pouring down the stairs, banishing what little shadow there was left.

He reached for the switch and the lights in the cellar below went off, shrouding the lower half of the stairs in shadow.

The lights ahead, though, there another matter, and he could see no switch to turn those of yet.

He could hear the sound of steps approaching and withdrew down the stairs, flattening himself against the wall in the shadows. But no one appeared. Instead, there was a muttering voice above his head and the sound of a cupboard pulled open.

“ _I am hungry, Edward. Bring me some fruits, Edward._ Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you dismissed the cook for the night. I’m a guard, not a fucking servant.” The cupboard was thrown shut, and stomping steps went silent shortly after, only to be replaced by the sound of something hitting a wooden surface in rapid succession. “Next time I tell her to go to the taffing kitchen herself. Spoiled brat. If my daughter would be like that, I’d give her the tawse. Easy as that.” Something was put upon a metal surface with force. “Ungrateful little whore, someone’s got to teach her a lesson …”

The steps drew away, and moments later, Garrett heard a door fall shut.

He pushed away from the wall and treaded up the last steps, peering past the banister into the kitchen. The stove was cold, the kitchen table only bore a chopping board and a knife as witnesses of the angered guard who’d chopped fruits here moments ago. There was no one to be seen.

A number of cupboards framed the walls, and three doors lead away from the kitchen and further into the estate.

Garrett slipped around the bannister and went to check the first cupboard. Inside lay a collection of glittering silverware, with adornments along their handles. Without much thought, he slipped them all into his pockets and carried on to the next. It only held a number of kitchen towels.

The last cupboard, however, was filled with wine glasses and one elegantly adorned and engraved silver goblet, with three jewels embedded in its base. That thing was probably worth more than all the silverware he’d stolen just moments ago combined, and would fetch a nice price.

_Let me guess, this is yours, Vance? Sorry to relieve you from it._

He let it slip into his bag, where it joined the cutlery.

He slid past the kitchen table and over to the door closest to the stairs. When he tested the handle, he found it unlocked, and a quick peek through the keyhole revealed a storage room filled with a variety of food. He wasn’t surprised to find it empty.

Still, he opened the door and took a closer look inside. He could spot a small venting shaft over the racks, but it was too tight even for him to slip through. Wherever this one might lead, he wasn’t going to find out.

He turned away from the door, closing it, and approached the next. It seemed to lead out into an empty hallway, illuminated by candles. He could spot part of a painting that covered the opposite wall, just next to another door.

Garrett stepped back from the door. This way seemed more promising than the dead end of the storage room, but he remembered a servant’s staircase from his map that was connected to the kitchen. The last remaining door was likely the one that offered him this shortcut upstairs …

Now, where to start? The map said the workshop was in the basement, but had shown no indication as to how he might get there. He’d have to figure that out by himself. The bedrooms, library and study where probably the best place to start looking for a clue.

And since the library was split up on two floors, that was where he’d check first. Which meant ignoring the servant’s staircase for now.

He pushed down the door handle and slipped out into the hallway. The door opposite the kitchen’s lead into what looked like a dark and empty dining room, as a look through the keyhole told him.

If he remembered correctly, the living room was on the other side. The chance was small, but even if he didn’t find a clue as to how to access the workshop in the cellar, the promise of probably pricy loot was enough to push the dining room door open and slip inside.

The dining room held little of value. A grand, but unlit chandelier hung from the ceiling above the long, oval table. It seemed to be held in delicate balance. A right aimed arrow would be enough to send the entire thing crushing to the floor. A good enough way to cause a distraction, should he need one …

Even though it was dark, he followed the length of the table crouched down and slowly. From here, he could see that the door on the opposite side of the room stood ajar, with warm golden light seeping through the crack.

He flattened himself to the wall and peered through the ajar door. Nothing. The living room was empty, safe for an enormous cage sitting atop a table opposite of the door, filled with a couple of colorful little birds. They seemed to be fast asleep, beaks shoved underneath their wings, but he knew how easily they could wake from their slumber.

Careful, then. The last thing he needed was for these tiny feather balls to alert the guards.

A thick carpet laid out on the floor muffled his steps as he slipped through the door. The living room was spacious, filled with cushioned armchairs and a divan arranged around a blazing fire place – the source of the light, since no lamp or candle was lit.

A portrait of a young girl had been placed on the chimney sill. The picture frame, gilded and adorned with glass jewels, was probably already worth quite a bit, but the painting was even more valuable. The girl almost looked as though she was alive, and her green eyes seemed to follow him, glinting out of a pale face surrounded by ebony curls.

He snatched it from the sill and slipped it into his bag.

_A bit too corny for my taste, but someone should pay a nice price for this._

Slowly, he turned away from the sill, careful not to make any sudden movements that could stir the birds from their sleep. He kept an eye on them as he padded over to the chest of drawers on the far end of the room. There was precious little place to hide and just one door – if he alerted someone, he’d be trapped.

But the birds still slept when he reached the commode and started pulling them open one by one. Most were empty, but one of them held a small chess set, with pieces carved from ebony and ivory. The mansion might not be enormous, but Vance certainly knew what luxury was.

And the chest set found its place next to the girl portrait.

It was really a nice piece. He was half-tempted to keep it for himself. How often had Basso tried to talk him into a party of chess? With this set, he might even consider it …

The rest of the room bore little of interest. Nothing that could point him to the workshop.

Garrett headed back to the door, slowly and crouched down and with one eye kept on the still sleeping birds. He reached the dining room without stirring the tiny feather balls awake and slipped inside.

He’d almost made it to the door when he heard steps approaching, and the rustle of what might be a blade in its sheath. Garrett stilled, shrinking into the shadows with his back pressed against the wall, only inches away from the door so that it would shield him if it opened.

“Might just as well snatch something for myself, if I’ve got to play the errand boy for this spoiled brat”, a voice muttered only some feet away on the other side of the door.

Obviously, the angry guard from the kitchen had returned from his unloved duty.

Garrett heard the bang of a door falling shut, and tiptoed over to the keyhole. The floor lay empty before him. And he had a good idea of where the guard might have gone.

With his hand already on the handle, he waited for the kitchen door to open, ready to slip out of the dining room. He couldn’t know when the guard would return, and he wouldn’t risk leaving his relatively save hiding spot if it meant that the guard could see him at any moment …

His silent counting had reached seventy-four when the kitchen’s door on the other side of the corridor swung open. Through the keyhole, Garrett could see the guard leaving, and his left hand seemed to be closed around something.  

_Maybe you should’ve secured your estate from the thieves inside, Vance._

He waited until the guard had passed by the door and his steps were farer away before he deftly pulled the door open and slid outside into the now empty corridor. A quick glance to both his sides assured him that there was no one to be seen before he treaded along the corridor and past the kitchen.

Ahead, the hallway widened and forked. Garrett flattened himself against the wall and peeked around the corner. There was a guard at the foot of the grand staircase, and another who overlooked the entrance hall from the gallery. He couldn’t see others, but that didn’t mean those were all of them.

Given Vance’s obvious paranoia, he was almost sure he’d come across more guards.

But he should be able to slip along the corridor without the guard at the staircase noticing him. He was far enough away, and the guard didn’t look as though he’d be headed this way any time soon.

The library, according to the map, was on the other end of this corridor. He just needed to follow it.

With soft, quick steps, he passed the opening and treaded down the hallway. Right before the point where it took a turn, a small unassuming door lead away from it. Not the door to the library, most likely.

Still, Garrett pressed his eye to the keyhole and stole a glance through. All he could see was part of a handrail and some stairs leading upwards. Another way to enter the servant’s staircase, it seemed. And a way upstairs, should the library on the first floor yield no results.

Pulling back from the door, he could see another one further down the hallway, much larger and more impressive than the one he’d just turned away from.

Just as he set to approach the door, it suddenly swung open. Garrett immediately rushed back behind the corner. With the electric lights illuminating the corridor, there were to shadows to hide him. Crouched behind the corner, he watched as two men left the library.

One wore a sheathed blade at his hip and the chest armor and helmet of a guard. The other, older man was dressed in modest clothes of undoubtedly high quality. Garrett could see silver buttons glitter at his blue-grey jacket, and his boots were polished to the point they shone.

The finely dressed man headed for the stairs without looking back or down the corridor, but the guard just stretched and leaned against the wall next to the library door. He didn’t look like he would be inclined to leave any time soon.

Garrett sighed. If he tried to slip past the guard, he’d be spotted momentarily. The man was looking everywhere and didn’t make a particularly watchful impression, but even the sloppiest of guard would notice if someone tried to sneak past him just a few feet away in a brightly lit corridor.

And it was too risky staying here. Another guard could patrol along the hallway any time soon.

There had to be a way past the guard.

Garrett leaned around the corner as far as he dared. He needed to lure the guard away somehow. Just long enough to get into the library unnoticed …

There. At the end of the hallway, past the stairs and halfway to the front door, he spotted a large vase, filled with flowers.

With one swift motion, he picked a blunt arrow from its quiver and knocked it back. Careful, he took aim before he set it loose, and pulled back behind the corner just when the noise of shattering pottery filled the entrance hall.

The guard at the library door let out a muttering curse and pushed back from the wall, one hand at the hilt of his sword.

The moment he had his back turned, Garrett slipped out into the hallway and darted for the door, pulling it ajar. He slid through and closed it shut. A swift look around told him that the library was empty.

“Stupid cat must’ve broken it”, a voice from the other side of the door muttered.

Garrett lingered at the door for a moment longer to check the hallway through the keyhole. He could see the guard passing by, but he didn’t stop or resume his position. Good. That spared him the inconvenience of trying to lure him away a second time.

He stepped away from the door.

As expected, the room’s walls were framed with high bookshelves that seemed to creak under the weight of dozens of tomes. A large carpet covered most of the floor, and from the ceiling hang another grand chandelier that lit the library. A few tables were stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by cushioned chairs. Books lay on one of the table tops.

As good a place as any other to start searching the library for clues.

If the man who’d recently left the room was Vance – and he certainly hadn’t looked like a servant –, he might have left something there.

Garrett approached the table and reached for one of the books, a rather thin one that lay atop of the pile, and flipped through the pages. Maybe Vance had left something within … But nothing. Child’s tales were printed onto the pages, together with some rather nice illustrations.

He laid the book back down and began searching the rest of the pile. One after the other, he opened the tomes and flipped through the pages, in the hope to find a hidden note within or something else that might point him into the right direction. But there was nothing there.

With a sign, he arranged the pile back to how he’d found it, and turned away from the tables. Maybe the bookshelves would proof more useful.

He prowled along the wall, scanning the shelves for books that had recently been pulled out or looked the slightest bit off, possibly betraying a tarnished switch or level. Carefully, he pulled some of the more suspicious ones out, but all of them were genuine.

_This isn’t leading anywhere._

A guard or servant or even Vance could enter the library any second. He couldn’t try all the books and look behind every shelf in the hope of just stumbling across the right clue.

He turned away from the bookshelf and headed back to the door. A quick glance through the keyhole assured him that the guard hadn’t resumed his position. Instead, he appeared to be talking with the guard at the stairs.

Careful, Garrett pushed the library door open and slipped outside into the hallway.

He couldn’t take the main staircase – it was too well-guarded, and too brightly lit. But the servant’s staircase was just a few steps back the corridor, and a far more discreet way upstairs.

A few silent steps later, he stood with his eye pressed to the keyhole and glanced through. The servant’s staircase appeared empty, and only dimly lit.

With a last glance about his shoulder to check the hallway behind him, he pushed the door the open and slipped through.

Garrett swiftly looked around, but the staircase was empty. Still, he treaded lightly over to the stairs and up the steps, careful not to cause them to creak underneath his feet.

He’d almost made it to the stair head when, suddenly, the door ahead him cracked open.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long! I'll try to upload the next chapter faster!


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